


i wouldn’t know where to start

by weisenbachfelded



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Canon Rewrite, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn, also sort of, and extra scenes here and there, and with little shifts in canon, blink and you’ll miss it ralbert, but mainly just, davey being annoyed to friends to lovers, its a great time i promise you’ll love it, so that they end up together, the worlds slowest burn considering this fic takes place over about five days, this is a scene by scene retelling of newsies focused on jack and davey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 35,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23542297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weisenbachfelded/pseuds/weisenbachfelded
Summary: ‘I’m not an idiot, you know,’ Jack said, not quite able to meet Davey’s eyes. ‘I know guys like us don’t wind up together. And I don’t want you promising nothin’ you’re gonna take back later.’a newsies canon rewrite where jack and davey end up together
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly
Comments: 177
Kudos: 238





	1. carrying the banner

**Author's Note:**

> ok i’m turning this into one work cos it’s gonna be longer than i thought 
> 
> anyway! this is the first thing i’ve written in this fandom so please be nice  
> leave comments & kudos and let me know what you think!
> 
> or say hi on tumblr @weisenbachfelded

‘I’ll take twenty newspapers, please.’ Davey could feel every surrounding pair of eyes on him. It took all his willpower to keep from shaking with nerves, and to look Wiesel in the eye. Les had no such problem, already trying to befriend as many people in the queue as he could. 

‘Twenty for the new kid. Let’s see the dime.’ Wiesel stretched out his hand. Oh. Davey hadn’t bargained on that. 

‘I’ll pay you when I sell them.’ He replied, sounding a lot more brave than he felt. From around him, he heard a few snorts of laughter. 

Leaning against a wall in the shade, Jack tucked his own papers into his bag. At the new kid’s remark, he looked up. 

‘Funny, kid.’ Wiesel chuckled. His smile dropped as quickly as it had appeared. ‘Cash up front.’

‘But whatever I don’t sell, you buy back, right?’ Davey asked, grasping at a last hope. The surrounding newsies burst out laughing. 

Jack gave a small smile. From where he was stood, and the way the boy was angled, he could see the way his blush spread right to the tips of his ears.

‘Certainly. And every time you lose a tooth, I put a penny under your pillow.’ Wiesel almost bent double with laughter at his own joke. Davey wished the ground would swallow him whole. ‘This kid’s a riot. C’mon. Cough up the cash or blow.’ Wiesel stabbed the stack of papers with his finger. 

Jack couldn’t help but feel bad for the kid. He remembered when he’d had that kind of naïve confidence. He had to admit, the boy was handling this a lot better than most other new kids he’d seen. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen, though he was shorter than Jack, and skinnier too. His shirt, neatly pressed, was slightly too big. The sleeves, which were rolled up to his elbows, would have fallen far past his fingertips had he rolled them down. 

Davey closed his eyes in resignation, and shoved his hand into his pocket. He carefully counted out the coins and handed them over. One of the men behind Wiesel counted out his papers and shoved them at him. Beckoning Les over, he counted them out. And counted them again. Les looked up at him expectantly. Shit. Taking a deep breath in - as though that would somehow fill him with the courage he needed - he turned to face Wiesel again. 

‘Sorry - uh, excuse me. I paid for twenty but you only gave me nineteen.’ Davey knew from the way the newsies fell deathly silent that he had made a mistake. Everyone’s eyes were on him again, and Davey just wanted to run. 

Jack almost winced. This kid had really dropped himself in it. But there was something about him - something about the way he stood his ground, face set firm, hiding his trembling hands from Wiesel’s view - that left Jack transfixed, almost mesmerised. 

‘You seen how nice I was to this new kid?’ Wiesel addressed the group at large, his words joking but his tone like ice. ‘And what did I get for my civility? Ungrounded accusations.’ Wiesel turned to face Davey, fixing him with a cold glare. 

‘I just want what I paid for.’ Davey gave silent thanks that his voice came out stronger and more confident than he felt. From the corner of his eye, he could see the newsies exchanging glances - no doubt exasperated at the dumb new kid. 

‘He said beat it.’ One of the guys behind Wiesel chimed in, starting forward, cracking his knuckles. 

Suddenly, the papers were being lifted out of Davey’s hands. He looked up to see a boy, the same age as him, with dark eyes, tan-brown skin and a messy head of hair hidden under his cap, frowning as he rifled through Davey’s newspapers. 

‘New kid’s right, Weasel.’ The boy’s voice was sharp and mocking, but he handed back Davey’s papers with a quick, gentle look that didn’t at all match his tone. For the briefest of seconds, their knuckles brushed. Through the tiniest of touches, Davey could feel the smallest, softest sparks between them. Davey pulled his hand back, startled, and rubbed his knuckles where they had met the other boy’s. 

‘You gave him nineteen.’ The boy indicated Davey’s papers again. ‘I’m sure it was an honest mistake on account’a Oscar can’t count to twenty with his shoes on.’ At that, the boy grinned at Davey, and Davey couldn’t help but smile back weakly. The newsies fell about laughing, but with none of the scorn with which they had laughed at Davey. 

‘Here. Now take a hike.’ Wiesel held a paper out to Davey at arms length. Davey rushed forwards and grabbed it. 

Jack watched him as he stowed the paper in his bag. The boy looked up at him as he did, and Jack quickly looked away. He wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t want to be caught staring, but was suddenly sure that he wanted to spend an awful lot more time doing so. Jack fished in his pocket for a spare coin, and, when he found one, hesitated for a split second. This was a terrible idea. Awful. 

‘Give him another fifty papes.’ Jack flipped the coin down in front of Wiesel, who stared at it incredulously.

‘I don’t want more papers.’ Davey said hurriedly. He moved forwards to try and stop Jack, who held out a hand and frowned at him. 

‘What kind of newsie don’t want more papes?’ The few boys still half-listening to the conversation muttered in agreement. Jack walked away from the counter as the boy took the papers. He was right. This really was the worst idea he had ever had. But he understood how the boy felt, no doubt uncomfortable and nervous amongst the newsies. And he couldn’t help but like this new kid - with his determined confidence, permanent anxious crease in his forehead, and his serious grey-blue eyes. 

‘I‘m no charity case. I don’t even know you.’ Davey called after him, trying to fit the stack of papers into his bag. 

‘His name’s Jack!’ Les grinned up at him. Davey rolled his eyes. Helpful. He handed Les the few papers he couldn’t fit in his bag in an attempt to distract him. Jack was looking at him again, and, just as before, looked suddenly away once their eyes met. 

‘This here is the famous Jack Kelly. He once escaped jail on the back of Teddy Roosevelt’s carriage. Made all the papes!’ A boy leaning heavily on a crutch called over. It seemed all the newsies were once again focused on Davey. 

Davey opened his mouth to ask more, but before he could, Jack had begun to talk to Les. 

‘How old are you?’ Jack asked. Les stood up tall, almost on his tiptoes, puffing out his chest. 

‘I’m ten, almost.’ He said proudly. 

‘If anyone asks,’ Jack advised, mock-seriously, ‘you’re seven. Younger sells more papes, and if we’re gonna be partners...’ Les looked overjoyed at the suggestion. 

‘Hold on - who said we want a partner?’ Davey stared pointedly at Jack, who just smiled back. 

‘Sellin’ with Jack is the chance of a lifetime.’ The kid with the crutch chimed in. ‘You learn from him, you learn from the best.’

Jack shrugged at Davey, still smirking infuriatingly at him. 

‘If he’s the best, then what’s he need with me?’ Davey replied, determinedly looking away from Jack. 

‘’Cause you’ve got a little brother,’ Jack said, winking at Les, ‘and I don’t.’ Les beamed with pride. ‘Hey - look sad, kid.’ Les’s face fell, and he stuck out a trembling bottom lip. Jack laughed gleefully and ruffled Les’s hair. ‘We’re gonna make millions, you and I.’ He held out a hand for Les to high-five. Les looked like he was about to burst with happiness. ‘You got a name, kid?’ Jack asked him. 

‘I’m Les. This is my brother, David.’ Les jerked a dismissive thumb over his shoulder back at him. Jack looked back up at Davey. 

‘Nice to meet ya, Davey.’ Jack delighted in the way Davey scowled at the nickname. He gestured at his bag of newspapers. ‘My two bits come off the top, then we split the rest - seventy-thirty.’ Jack was only teasing, and suppressed an even bigger smile at the way Davey frowned in irritation. 

‘Fifty-fifty!’ Les piped up. 

‘Sixty-forty, and that’s my final offer.’ Jack quirked an eyebrow at Davey, who folded his arms across his chest. Les looked up at him, and Davey nodded begrudgingly. 

‘Deal.’ Les grinned up at Jack, who spat in his hand and held it out. 

‘Les -‘ Davey started, but before he could get the words out, Les had spat in his own hand and was shaking Jack’s. ‘That’s disgusting.’ Davey gave Les a disapproving look. Les stuck out his tongue, making Jack laugh again. That laugh was beginning to grate on Davey. 

‘That’s business.’ Jack shot back. ‘Proper little businessman you got there.’ He teased Davey, as Les, already distracted, dashed off to show another newsie his stash of papers. 

‘Don’t encourage him.’ Davey found himself face-to-face with Jack now. He kept his arms firmly folded, a barrier between them. He could see Jack’s face up close - the sharp angles of his jawline; the way the tendons in his neck shifted as he smiled that goddamn infuriating smile. The way his hair curled a little around his ears; the way his eyes were so bright and mischievous. Davey couldn’t help his gaze from wandering - ever so briefly - down to where his shirt just showed the tops of his collarbones, and stretched a little too tight across his chest, as though he had grown out of it a summer before. 

Davey snapped his eyes back up to Jack’s - only to find them still fixed on his. Davey, unfolded his arms, and found himself suddenly uncertain without the barrier. He stuck his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. 

‘Why’d you offer to sell with us?’ He asked Jack, who looked a little taken aback at the question, but quickly masked it. 

‘Like I said - you got a kid brother. That’s a gold mine when you’re -‘

‘Why’d you really offer?’ Davey interrupted. Jack looks as though this had caught him off guard. He scoffed, and looked away, strangely awkward all of a sudden. 

‘You’re a new kid.’ Jack started, more uncertain than before. ‘From the looks of you, you ain’t never done anything like this before. You could use the help.’

‘That obvious, huh?’ 

‘Between the fresh ironed shirt and the kerfuffle with Weasel... yeah, it’s kinda obvious.’ Davey laughed at that, subconsciously smoothing down his shirt. He convinced himself he was imagining the way Jack’s eyes followed his hands. 

Jack looked up at him, and their eyes met for a fraction of a second. It was Jack who broke it, with a nervous laugh and eyes darting quickly away. 

‘Okay, newsies!’ He called to the boys. ‘Let’s hit the streets.’ He clapped a hand on Davey’s shoulder as he walked past him towards the gates - and Davey convinced himself he was imagining that it lingered there for just a moment longer than was strictly necessary.


	2. i never planned on someone like you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘I just sold my last paper!’ Les beamed up at the both of them. Davey ruffled his hair, unable to stay annoyed even at Jack when Les was so happy.
> 
> ‘Good on you, Les.’ Davey fished out the last paper from his bag. ‘I got one more.’ He waved it in front of his brother.
> 
> ‘Sell it or pay for it.’ Jack warned, teasingly. Never mind. Davey could definitely stay annoyed at Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love this chapter mainly cos i will never stop talking about how davey should’ve sung i never planned to jack
> 
> also idk about the naming chapters after songs thing? hopefully it’s helping keep things clear timeline-wise but pls let me know

‘Paper! Paper! Evenin’ paper here!’ Davey feebly attempted to flag down a passer-by, but - like almost everyone else he’d tried to sell to that day - the man hurried on past without so much as a glance. Davey sighed and pulled his cap off, running a hand through his hair. 

‘Sing ‘em to sleep, why dontcha?’ Davey turned to see Jack walking towards him, and Les not far behind, exchanging coins with a woman on the other side of the street. Davey grit his teeth and scowled at Jack, who just grinned, and snatched the paper straight out of Davey’s hand. 

‘Extra! Extra! Terrified flight from burnin’ inferno! You heard the story right here!’ A man in a tall hat and long black coat paused as he passed by, quickly taking the paper and throwing Jack a coin without a word. ‘Thanks, mister.’ Jack doffed his cap with a charming smile that showed tiny dimples in his cheeks. 

‘You just made that up.’ Davey stared at Jack in disbelief. 

‘Did not. I said he heard it right here, and he did.’ Jack said smugly. 

‘My father taught us not to lie.’ 

‘And mine taught me not to starve.’ Jack replied. Davey didn’t think it was possible to grit his teeth any harder. He opened his mouth to argue, but Les ran up to them before he could get the words out. 

‘I just sold my last paper!’ Les beamed up at the both of them. Davey ruffled his hair, unable to stay annoyed even at Jack when Les was so happy. 

‘Good on you, Les.’ Davey fished out the last paper from his bag. ‘I got one more.’ He waved it in front of his brother. 

‘Sell it or pay for it.’ Jack warned, teasingly. Never mind. Davey could definitely stay annoyed at Jack. 

‘Give it here.’ Les grabbed the paper and sidled up to a woman passing by, easily charming her out of her money. 

‘Born to the breed.’ Jack grinned at Davey, nudging him gently. The dimples were back. Davey wanted to punch him. 

‘This is so much better than school!’ Les bounced back over to them. 

‘Don’t even think about it. When this is over, we go back to school.’ Davey warned him. Les pouted. Jack laughed. 

‘So, how’s about we divvy up the money, grab some food, then find you somewhere safe to spend the night?’ Jack asked, trying to hide the hope in his voice. Davey smiled a little, as if to thank him for the offer. 

‘We gotta get home. Our folks’ll be waitin’ dinner.’ Oh. That was unexpected.

‘You’ve got folks, huh?’ Jack asked, hoping he didn’t sound too disappointed. 

‘Doesn’t everybody?’ Les frowned up at his brother.

‘Les, be quiet.’ Davey cautioned him. ‘Our dad tangled with a delivery truck on the job. Messed up his leg real bad, so they laid him off. That’s how come we had to find work.’ Davey explained to Jack, a blush rising in his cheeks, as though he was embarrassed to admit as such. 

‘Yeah, sure. That makes sense. Too bad about your dad.’ Jack shifted uncomfortably. With Davey standing there, arm protective around Les, he felt suddenly out of place in this small family. Davey seemed to sense this - or perhaps Jack just wasn’t half as subtle as he thought he was, because he squeezed Les’ shoulder and let go, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

‘Why don’t you home with us for dinner?’ Davey asked, surprising himself. ‘Our folks would be happy to have you.’ Davey smiled at Jack, hoping it was a little warmer than the annoyed frowns he’d been sending his way all day. 

‘Thanks for the invite but I, uh -‘ Jack looked away. ‘I just remembered I got plans... with a fella.’ Davey restrained himself from raising a sceptical eyebrow. ‘He’s probably waiting on me right now.’ Jack babbled on. Davey had the sudden urge to reach out to him, but before he could - 

‘Is that the guy you’re meeting?’ Les asked, pointing over Jack’s shoulder. Jack whipped his head around, and swore. 

‘Kelly!’ A tall man dressed all in black was charging toward them, flanked by a policeman. 

‘Run for it!’ Jack sprinted off, pulling Davey with him by the hand. The three of them darted through back alleys, unfamiliar to Davey but evidently Jack’s home territory. They slowed as they reached a fire escape, and Jack turned to check their pursuers. There was no sign of them yet, just Les racing a few paces behind them. Hand still gripping Davey’s tightly, Jack dragged him up the fire escape and in through a door. 

‘Get the door, Les!’ Jack called, and Les slammed the door behind him. Les least against it, out of breath but still grinning. 

Davey looked down at where his hand was interlaced with Jack’s. The both of them pulled their hands away as if struck by hot iron. Davey’s hand felt suddenly empty without the warmth of Jack’s there. 

Gasping to get his breath back, Davey took in his surroundings. They were in the flies of a theatre, and from somewhere not too far away, he could hear the hum of an audience, and the quiet scraping of a tuning band. 

‘Someone wanna tell me why I’m running?’ Davey asked, his annoyance at Jack renewed. ‘Who was that guy?’

‘Snyder.’ Jack replied, half-distracted as he peered over the edge of the catwalk. ‘He runs the Refuge - this jail for underage kids. The more kids he locks up, the more the city pays him, and the more money goes straight into his own pocket.’ 

‘Hey!’ A voice came from the stage beneath them. ‘No kids in the theatre!’ A huge grin spread across Jack’s face. 

‘Not even me, Miss Medda?’ 

‘Jack Kelly, man of mystery. Get yourself down here and give me a hug!’ Jack rushed down the stairs, motioning for Davey and Les to follow. Once on the stage, Davey could see the woman Jack had been talking to - a cheerful, stout woman, with dark curls and sparkling eyes, dressed in a shade of pink that matched her rosy cheeks. She spun Jack round to get a better look at him, then hugged him tightly. ‘Where have you been keeping yourself, kid?’ 

‘Never far from you, Miss Medda.’ Jack turned to face Davey again, beaming. Davey couldn’t help but smile to see Jack so happy - happier than he’d seen him of yet. ‘Boys,’ Jack said to Davey and Les, ‘may I present to you Miss Medda Larkin: greatest star on the Bowery today. She also owns the joint.’ Davey doffed his cap to her, and she laughed. 

‘Sweet one you got yourself there, Kelly.’ Medda winked at him. Jack blushed the colour of her dress. Davey bit his lip to keep from smiling too widely at the sight. 

‘Miss Medda,’ Jack said, hurriedly changing the subject, ‘I got a little situation out there on the street. Mind if we hide out here for a while?’ Davey pretended not to notice the way his chest fluttered at the way Jack said ‘we’. 

‘Well, what better place to hide out than a theatre?’ Medda squeezed Jack’s shoulder comfortingly. ‘Of course you can, honey. Snyder after you again?’ 

‘He sure is.’ 

‘Then stay here as long as you need - on one condition. Paint me another one of these backdrops, and let me pay you for it this time!’ Medda gestured to the scenery behind her, a painting of a sunset over a park, so detailed and realistic that Davey could have mistaken it for a window. Davey and Les both moved closer to it, entranced by the fiery colours, by the brushstrokes that lit up the painting with life. 

‘Hey, I couldn’t take your money, Miss Medda.’ Jack protested. 

‘You pictured that?’ Les interrupted him, awestruck by the painting. 

‘Your friend is quite an artist.’ Medda beamed proudly. 

‘Don’t get carried away, it’s just a bunch of trees.’ Jack grumbled, but Davey could see how pleased he was to be complimented. 

‘You’re really good, Jack.’ Davey turned to face him, finding Jack’s eyes already upon him - something he had become quite accustomed to over the course of the day. 

‘It’s nothin’ special.’ Jack shrugged. 

‘It damn well is -‘ Davey started, but he was interrupted by a rather flushed looking stage manager rushing up to Medda. 

‘You’re on, Miss Medda!’ He said, pointing to his wristwatch. 

‘I am? How am I doing?’ She asked, face deadly serious. The stage manager stared at her incredulously - and then they broke broke into hysterical laughter. Jack laughed along with them, and Davey had to smile too. 

‘Boys, lock the door and stay all night! You’re with Medda now.’ Medda brushed down her gown and shooed them off stage.

Medda was absolutely marvellous. The show was like nothing Davey had ever seen - and he stood transfixed in the wings, applauding frantically when she finished. 

Jack had seen the show a thousand times before, but watching it next to Davey was like seeing it for the very first time. The glare of the stage lights, so bright with Medda as their focus, bathed Davey in a much softer, warmer glow. He seemed almost ethereal, only the silhouettes of his face illuminated. From so close, Jack could see the tiny freckles that dusted his nose, delicate as powdered sugar. He could see the curve of his mouth, open slightly in awe and disbelief at the show. Davey could have been a celestial being, the stage lights creating a halo around him. Jack hardly dared breathe, as though one exhale would blow Davey clean away from this realm. 

When Medda finished, Davey turned to Jack, laughing in amazement. 

‘That was incredible!’ He said, breathless. 

‘Ain’t you ever been to the theatre before?’ Jack asked. Both Les and Davey shook their heads. Medda left the stage to greet them, arms outstretched. 

‘Miss Medda, you were amazing.’ Davey told her. 

‘Well, aren’t you the sweetest thing!’ She beamed back. ‘You boys staying for the rest of the show?’ Jack looked towards the others for confirmation. Davey nodded hopefully. 

‘Any way we could find these two a box?’ Jack asked. He looked up to the box on the right, just visible from where they were in the wings, and - 

Hold on. 

That was the girl he’d spoken to earlier - the funny one he’d seen going into the offices at the World. He could see her writing, scribbling quickly between glances at the stage. 

‘Follow me, boys, there’s a box free just this way.’ Davey and Les followed Medda out of the wings and further backstage. 

‘You comin’, Jack?’ Davey asked. 

‘You guys go on ahead... I’ll catch up with you.’ Jack replied. 

‘Don’t be too long.’ Jack could hear the smile in Davey’s voice, but as he turned to him, he had already vanished into the darkness of the flies. 

Jack set off round the back of the stage, a path he knew by heart up to the box where the girl sat. He pushed open the door to the box, and leant against the wall. 

‘Well, hello again.’ He said, grinning. She turned to face him, affronted. 

‘This is a private box.’ She hissed. 

‘Oh, should I lock the door?’ He asked. 

‘Go away. I’m working.’ She continued to write, intently ignoring him. 

‘A working girl, huh? What’re you doin’?’ He moved closer, peering over her shoulder. 

‘Reviewing the show.’ She still wouldn’t look at him. 

‘Oh, for the World? I saw you go in there this morning. I work for ‘em too, you know.’ She whipped her head round at this, still scowling. 

‘No, for the New York Sun.’ She replied. ‘Can you go? I’m kind of busy.’

Jack looked out over the box for the first time. In the box directly opposite, Medda was showing Davey and Les to their seats. 

‘I don’t know - the view’s pretty good from here.’ She rolled her eyes, and looked up at him. Her frown softened when she saw him looking across the theatre, and followed his gaze. She exhaled softly, as if in realisation. 

‘Fine. Stay here.’ She conceded. ‘But keep quiet!’ Jack mimed sealing his lips shut, and took a seat beside her. 

As quietly as he could manage, Jack slipped a stick of charcoal and some paper from where he always kept some in his pocket. Almost without thinking, he began to draw. A face, all soft angles, bathed in a near-ethereal light. A face with freckles sprinkled across the bridge of the nose, with eyes wide in awe. The girl leant over his shoulder, and he snatched the drawing away. 

‘That’s pretty good.’ 

‘Quiet! There’s a show going on.’ Jack protested. The girl laughed. ‘Besides, it ain’t for you.’

‘I can see that.’ The girl gestured across to where Davey sat opposite, next to Medda. Jack watched as he whispered something to her, ruffled Les’ hair, and slipped out of the box. Jack instinctively stood up too. 

‘Going already? Well, it was nice meeting you...?’ the girl held out a hand for him to shake. 

‘Jack. Kelly.’ He shook her hand.

‘Is that what is says on your rap sheet?’ She smiled up at him, eyes twinkling. 

‘Ha. Funny.’ He smiled back. ‘It was nice meeting you too...?’

‘Katherine - uh, Katherine Plumber.’ 

‘Well, may we meet again soon, Katherine Plumber.’ He smiled at her once more, then left the box.

Jack raced through the flies, until he reached Davey, standing close to where they’d first come in. 

‘Hey.’ Jack said, breathless from running. Really? That was the best he could come up with? 

‘Hey yourself.’ Davey grinned back at him. ‘ I, uh, I was just looking for you.’ 

‘Well, you found me!’ Jack grinned stupidly at him, mind suddenly blank of anything intelligible, let alone intelligent to say. Davey just gave a soft chuckle, fiddling with the rolled up sleeve of his shirt. 

‘I, uh,’ he began, a little nervously, ‘I saw you up there, in the box. Is that your -‘ Davey paused, searching for the right thing to say. ‘ - your girl?’ He finished, wincing at his choice of words. 

‘She - no!’ Jack laughed, running a hand through his hair and looking determinedly away from Davey. ‘We only just met. She’s a writer - journalist - she works at the World, I think. Figured I’d say hello.’ 

‘Ah.’ Davey nodded. He kicked himself internally, wracking his brains for something more to say.

‘Girls ain’t -‘ Jack started, but trailed off. ‘You know. They’re nice, once or twice, then you find someone new and...’ 

Davey tilted his head quizzically. 

‘I never made anything last with a girl, is all I mean. That whole settling down thing don’t really appeal to me.’ 

‘You’re lucky you don’t have parents breathing down your neck about - wait, shit, I didn’t mean -‘ Davey’s eyes widened, realising what he’d said. Jack just laughed. 

‘Nah, it’s okay. I guess you’re right. It’s nice not having to do what someone else wants.’

‘I wouldn’t know.’ Davey rolled his eyes. ‘All my parents want is for me to settle down with a nice Jewish girl and start a family.’ 

‘Don’t you want that?’ Jack asked, regretting it the moment he said it, and biting his lip as thought to keep from saying anything else. 

‘I dunno.’ Davey leaned back against the wall, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. Jack’s chest suddenly felt very tight, as though his heart had swollen three sizes and was taking up far too much space. ‘I mean,’ Davey continued, ‘I don’t know what else I’d want. I just haven’t found a girl I liked, I guess.’ 

‘Not yet.’ Jack finished for him. Davey gave him a look Jack couldn’t quite decipher. 

‘Yeah. Not yet.’ Davey replied slowly. 

‘Davey! Jack! You missed the best bit!’ Les called. The two boys jumped, and turned to see Medda leading Les down a flight of stairs towards them. 

‘You’ll have to tell me all about it on the way back, kid.’ Davey smiled at Les, and mouthed a silent thanks to Medda. 

Jack hugged her goodbye, and Davey held out a hand to shake, which she used to pull him into a hug too. 

‘You take care of Jack. Don’t let him get you into too much trouble.’ She whispered into his ear as they hugged. 

‘I heard that, Miss Medda.’ Jack warned her, but she only laughed.


	3. the world will know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey had known this was a bad idea from the very first moment Jack had bought him those papers, and called him ‘Davey’, and flashed him those tiny little dimples that came with his smile. And this? This was just proof that he should’ve turned around and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always leave me a comment and tell me what u think! or drop me an ask on tumblr @weisenbachfelded

’Hold on, hold on!’ Jack shouted over the rest of the newsies. Davey awed at the way they fell silent just at the sound of his voice. ‘Nobody’s payin’ no new nothin’’. The newsies crowded around him. Davey hung back, staring up at the chalked words on the blackboard above them proclaiming the new, higher price. 

‘You got an idea?’ One voice asked, hopefully. 

‘Keep your shirt on.’ Jack slumped down to sit on a crate, and leant his chin in his hand, deep in thought. ‘Lemme think this through.’ Davey watched as his brow furrowed, chewing on his bottom lip. Davey didn’t know why, but it made him want to throw something. Preferably at Jack and his stupid, annoying, smart-ass face. 

‘What’s your angle?’ Another voice chimed in. Les sighed, exasperated, and shoved his way through the newsies. 

‘Stop crowdin’ him.’ Les stood, arms folded, in front of Jack, like a bodyguard. ‘Let the man work it out!’ The newsies all stared expectantly at Jack.

‘All right.’ Jack said slowly, still frowning. ‘Here’s the deal. If we don’t sell papes, nobody sells papes. No one gets to that window until they put the prices back where they belong.’ The newsies murmured amongst themselves, confused. Jack looked up at Davey, and, suddenly understanding, Davey shook his head in disbelief. 

‘You mean like a strike?’ Davey raised his eyebrows at Jack, who jumped to his feet, frown fading away into a grin. 

‘You heard Davey.’ Jack said, ignoring the way Davey scowled at being called that. Jack slung an arm round Davey’s shoulders. ‘We’re on strike!’ Davey suddenly felt very warm, and very aware of the way his body was lined up with Jack’s, hip to shoulder. Jack felt solid and almost comforting next to him. Davey’s heart began to hammer against his chest. 

‘Hold on, Jackie -‘ it was Jack’s turn to scowl at his nickname. Davey pulled away from Jack. ‘I didn’t say that -‘

‘We shut down this place like them workers shut down the trolleys.’ Jack grabbed Davey’s shoulders as though he was about to shake him, but instead just squeezed them gently, laughing with joy. ‘You’re a damn genius, Davey Jacobs!’ Davey shook his head, worried, but couldn’t tear his gaze away from Jack’s excited smile, from those tiny little damn dimples, from the sparkle in his dark eyes. 

‘The cops’ll bust our heads!’ Finch stepped forwards, the only newsie to look as worried as Davey felt. ‘Half of those strikers is laid up with broken bones.’ 

‘Cops ain’t gonna care about a bunch of kids.’ Jack waved him off dismissively, but looked to Davey for confirmation. ‘Right, Davey?’

‘Leave me out of this. I’m just here trying to feed my family.’ He turned away from Jack, unable to meet his eyes. 

‘And the rest of us is on playtime?’ Jack was serious now, and Davey knew he’d crossed a line. He shut his eyes, berating himself for letting his tongue slip. ‘Just because we only make pennies doesn’t give anybody the right to rub our noses in it.’ As annoying as he was, Davey knew Jack was in the right here. 

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Davey rounded on Jack, still determined to fight this one out. ‘You can’t strike. You’re not a union.’ Davey fought back a pleased smirk at the way Jack narrowed his eyes in irritation. 

‘And what if I says we is?’ Jack shot back. 

‘There’s a lot of stuff you need to be a union.’ 

‘Oh yeah? Like what?’ Jack took a step closer to Davey. 

‘Like...’ Davey blinked up at Jack, almost nose to nose, his mind suddenly blank. ‘Like membership.’ 

‘What do you call these guys?’ Jack gestured to the crowd of newsies. The newsies exchanged glances, but nodded in support. Jack stepped back, and Davey exhaled a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, relieved at having a few metres more of space between the two of them. Something about the proximity had removed his capability of all rational thought - a product, he supposed, of being so close to the world’s most annoying boy. 

‘And officers.’ Davey continued. 

‘I nominate Jack as President!’ Crutchie called. Davey glared at him. Crutchie just shrugged. The rest of the newsies gave a cheer in support. Davey glared at them too. 

‘Gee, thanks, guys. I’m touched.’ Jack placed a hand on his heart, and smirked vindictively at Davey. 

‘How about a statement of purpose?’ Davey smirked straight back at him. 

‘Must’a left it in my other pants.’ Davey rolled his eyes at Jack, but accepted himself defeated. 

‘What’s a statement of purpose?’ Race called from the back of the crowd. 

‘A reason for forming the union.’ Davey explained. As bad of an idea as he knew this was, maybe - just maybe - there was some way this could work. 

‘What reason did the trolley workers have?’ Jack asked. They weren’t fighting any more. He was looking at Davey intently with an indecipherable expression. Davey’s words died in his throat when their eyes met, and he was confronted with the intensity of Jack’s gaze. 

‘Uh -‘ Davey cleared his throat and tore his eyes away, looking back to the newsies. ‘I don’t - I don’t know. Wages. Work hours. Safety on the job.’ 

‘Who don’t need that? Bet if your father had a union, you wouldn’t be out here sellin’ papes in the first place.’ Jack said - but, again, it wasn’t in confrontation. The gentleness of his voice took Davey by surprise. 

‘Yeah.’ Davey said softly, voice barely more than a whisper. Jack placed a hand on his shoulder, steady, supportive. 

‘We got our statement of purpose then.’ Jack looked to the newsies, who gave a cheer of support. ‘Now what?’ Just as he looked to the newsies for support, Jack looked to Davey for guidance. Davey’s heart stuttered, as though realising this had tripped him up. 

‘If you wanna strike, the membership’s gotta vote.’ Davey replied. 

‘So let’s vote. Do we roll over and let Pulitzer pick our pockets, or do we strike?’ The newsies roared in affirmation. Jack clapped Davey on the shoulder and gave him a smile so exhilarating and intense that it left Davey breathless. Jack jumped up on top of a crate, and stared out at the newsies with unmistakeable pride. 

‘You heard the voice of the membership. The newsies of Lower Manhattan are now officially on strike!’ Jack shouted. The newsies yelled in response, shaking fists and papers and crutches in the air. ‘What next?’ Jack was asking the newsies, but his eyes drifted to Davey, who stared back up at him, still looking shaken. 

‘Wouldn’t a strike be more effective if someone in charge knew about it?’ Crutchie called. A few more newsies agreed with him, nodding and looking to Jack expectantly. 

‘It would be a pleasure to tell Weasel myself!’ Race grinned, and immediately rushed off to spread the news. 

‘Yeah? And who tells Pulitzer?’ Jack asked, again addressing the group at large, but with eyes only for Davey. Davey shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. He knew exactly what Jack wanted him to say. 

‘I don’t know...’ Davey replied, slowly. Jack smirked back. Davey glared at him. Fine. ‘I guess you do, Mister President.’ He said reluctantly. The newsies all cheered, and Jack smiled so widely his cheeks ached. Jack knew that Davey was still unsure, but he could see for the first time that he had some faith - if not in the strike, then at least in Jack. The thought made his heart feel heavy and warm, like an anchor pulling down towards the pit of his stomach. 

‘That’s right.’ Jack winked at Davey. ‘We tell Pulitzer.’ 

‘Hang on, I never said anything about ‘we’ -‘ Davey started, but Crutchie interrupted him. 

‘David’s the brains of this strike just as much as Jack!’ 

‘David’s all the brains of this strike seeing as Jack ain’t got none!’ Another voice chimed in. Jack’s mouth fell open in mock outrage. The newsies laughed, and broke into a chorus of agreement. Jack delighted in the way Davey blushed, from his freckle-spotted cheeks right to the tips of his ears. 

‘I nominate Davey as Vice President!’ A third voice piped up. 

‘Let’s not get carried away, the union don’t need a -‘ Davey started again, but Jack interrupted him. 

‘All in favour?’ He called to the newsies. They shouted a unanimous ‘aye!’ and Davey covered his face with his hands in desperation. 

‘So, what do we say to Pulitzer, Mister Vice President?’ Jack asked Davey, teasingly enunciating the last three words. Davey sighed. 

‘The newspaper owners need to respect your rights as employees.’ He explained. 

‘Pulitzer and Hearst gotta respect the rights of the working kids of this city.’ Jack continued. 

‘They can’t just change the rules when they feel like it.’ Davey was starting to smile, the way Jack bounced off his ideas giving him newfound confidence. 

‘That’s right. We do the work so we get a say.’ Jack held out a hand to Davey to join him up on his crate. They locked eyes, Davey exasperated and nervous, Jack excited and exhilarated. Davey shook his head almost imperceptibly, to which Jack beckoned him with the tiniest twitch of his outstretched fingers. 

‘I’ll kill you, Jack Kelly.’ He murmured under his breath. Davey grabbed his hand and let Jack pull him up, raising their clasped hands into the air. Davey’s breath caught in his throat, suddenly staring out at the expectant faces of all the newsies. 

‘We got ourselves a union!’ Jack cried. 

‘We got ourselves a union.’ Davey repeated. The newsies cheered. 

‘Pulitzer and Hearst, they think we’re nothin’. Are we nothin’?’ Jack yelled to the newsies. 

‘No!’ They roared back. Davey held tight to Jack’s hand, which felt like his only anchor to reality. Jack turned to Davey, and nodded in encouragement. 

‘They need to understand that we’re not enslaved to them.’ Davey said, confidence building with Jack at his side. ‘We’re free agents!’ 

‘You heard Davey!’ We ain’t their damn property!’ The nickname, which had irritated Davey so much over the last few days, suddenly felt familiar, comforting. The yelling of the crowd and the thrumming of angry energy was overwhelming. 

‘What’s to stop some other kids from comin’ along to sell our papes?’ Davey scanned the crowd and saw Finch standing at the back, frowning. 

‘Just let ‘em try!’ Albert shouted back, squaring his shoulders threateningly. 

‘No!’ Davey protested. ‘We can’t beat up on other kids. We’re in this together - all of us.’ His words weren’t met with quite the same enthusiasm as before, just a few begrudging shrugs. Davey turned to Jack for support, but saw him running towards the gates - towards the teetering ladder that led up to the chalkboard. The crowd of newsies followed him like a swarm of bees, and Davey was swept along with them. Jack clambered up to the chalkboard to shouts of encouragement. 

‘Jack, you better be careful!’ Davey called, but his voice was barely audible above the din. Jack heard him though, and flashed him a grin before he began to write, in big, scrawling letters: STRIKE!

Jack turned to the newsies, arms outstretched in victory. But he wasn’t looking at them. He was looking straight at Davey. To the newsies, he was their, leader, confident and proud, but his eyes, fixed on Davey, were seeking his approval. 

Davey stumbled, as if a jolt of electricity had struck him right at the centre. His stomach was twisting again, his heart hammering. Staring back up at Jack, he realised why. His surroundings melted away like wax, Jack at his epicentre like the wick of a candle. 

Shit. 

Davey had known this was a bad idea from the very first moment Jack had bought him those papers, and called him ‘Davey’, and flashed him those tiny little dimples that came with his smile. And this? This was just proof that he should’ve turned around and left. 

Well, it was too late now. Now, he was Vice President of the Newsboys’ Union, and now Jack was standing on a platform staring straight at him with those solemn, dark eyes. Now, there were a hundred damn kids looking to him and Jack for guidance. Admittedly, Jack was now considerably less annoying than he had been when they’d met. Although this... this development created all sorts of new problems that were probably a little more difficult to solve. 

Davey stared back up at Jack, and nodded approvingly. Jack’s smile grew impossibly bigger, and Davey felt that same warm comfort he’d felt with Jack’s arm round his shoulders. 

Jack shouted something to the newsies, but Davey didn’t hear it. All he could concentrate on was the way Jack’s eyes kept trailing back to him, flicking back and forth as he spoke, darting his way when he paused. Even when he looked away, Davey could feel his attention on him. And Davey didn’t stop staring back up at him, not even for a second.


	4. you are a call to motion (interlude)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chain of events that led David Jacobs to be sitting on a table in Jacobi’s Deli at five o’clock that afternoon was a blurry one. Jack was sitting next to him, one leg dangling off the edge. Jack’s side was just touching his, a hair’s breadth of space between the two of them. Davey felt a little dizzy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im calling the non-song chapters interludes cos i am pretentious and i think it sounds poetic and pretty
> 
> please please keep commenting it keeps me going and it’s the loveliest thing in the world to know people are enjoying this! 
> 
> come and say hello on tumblr @weisenbachfelded i never shut up on there

The chain of events that led David Jacobs to be sitting on a table in Jacobi’s Deli at five o’clock that afternoon was a blurry one. The newsies were packed in ten to a table, and Davey was sitting with his legs crossed in the centre of the table - the only available space. Jack was sitting next to him, one leg dangling off the edge. Jack’s side was just touching his, a hair’s breadth of space between the two of them. Davey felt a little dizzy. 

Mr. Jacobi handed out glass after glass of water, and the newsies toasted each other, clinking glasses and laughing. 

‘So, what’s next?’ Jack asked. He was met with silence. Davey looked at him only to find that the question has been directed at him. ‘What do we do, Mister Vice President?’ Jack bit his lip to keep from grinning. 

‘Now you have to spread the word.’ Davey tore his gaze from where Jack’s bottom lip was caught between his teeth, and addressed the room at large. ‘Let the rest of the city’s newsies know about the strike.’

‘You heard the man. Let’s split up and spread the word.’ Jack stood up on the table - much to Mr. Jacobi’s protesting - and began to divvy up the areas of the city between the newsies. Davey tuned out, allowing himself to stare up at Jack as the rest of the newsies were. Directing the boys like this, Jack seemed in his element. He was animated, lively, eyes bright and excited. 

‘I ain’t scared of Brooklyn!’ Finch’s protests drew Davey’s attention away from Jack. ‘I am sorta scared of Spot Conlon.’ Jack rolled his eyes at Finch. 

‘Davey and I will take Brooklyn.’ Jack smiled down at him. Davey’s chest ached, like his heart was suspended mid-beat, stretched taut like a tightrope. He nodded up at Jack. 

‘Why’s everyone so scared of Brooklyn?’ A voice from the corner of the room asked. The quiet mumble of noise disappeared, and every newsie in the room turned to the girl who had spoken. She stood, nervous, and Davey recognised her as the girl Jack had been with in the box that night at Medda’s theatre. 

‘What are you doin’ here?’ Jack grinned at her, evidently thrilled to see her. Try as he might, something bubbled in Davey - something that, if he wasn’t loathe to admit it, he might have called jealousy. 

‘I’m asking a question.’ The girl smiled back at Jack, at ease with his quick back-and-forth. ‘You got an answer?’ 

‘Brooklyn is the sixth largest city in the entire world. You got Brooklyn, you hit the motherlode.’ Jack jumped down off the table. ‘Anyway, what’re you doin’ here? For someone who works at the New York Sun, you spend an awful lot of time hangin’ around the World.’ 

‘I’m following a story, that’s all.’ Davey couldn’t help but like the girl, defiant and confident as she was. The newsies watched intently as the two argued, but Davey could see that neither really meant any of what they said. 

‘Ain’t your beat entertainment?’ Jack sniped. ‘What was the last story you wrote?’ 

‘What was the last strike you organised?’ She shot back. 

‘She’s got a point.’ Davey clambered off the table to stand beside Jack. ‘We want this to work, a reporter’s only gonna help.’ Jack raised his eyebrows at Davey, silently questioning. Davey held his gaze, a wordless conversation passing between them. 

‘Fine.’ Jack gave in, finally. ‘You want a story? Be in front of the circulation gate tomorrow morning. And bring a camera. You’re gonna want to get a picture of this.’ He gestured to the newsies, who called out their agreements. Romeo put an arm round Jack’s shoulders and pulled him over to his table to talk. 

‘I’m David.’ Davey held out a hand for the girl to shake. ‘I’m new to all this too.’

‘Katherine.’ She shook it with a smile, evidently relieved at his welcome. ‘It’s definitely... something.’ 

‘Alright boys, out you go.’ Mr. Jacobi emerged from the kitchen to herd them out. ‘I got payin’ customers coming in for dinner!’ The newsies called their thanks and doffed their caps to Mr. Jacobi, who feigned annoyance but waved them goodbye with a smile. 

Katherine and Davey trailed behind a little as the crowd of newsies made their way back towards the lodging house, a few leaving here and there to go back to their homes or hiding spots around the city. 

‘Listen, David,’ Katherine said, ‘I really am only just an entertainment reporter. I’m trying to break into big stories but -‘ 

‘Katherine, we appreciate you regardless.’ Davey reassured her. ‘No one else is even giving us the time of day.’ 

‘I - I think this could be big. For all of us.’ Katherine replied, visibly relieved. Jack fell back to walk with the two of them. 

‘Davey, you comin’ back to the lodging house tonight?’ He asked, and Davey didn’t quite dare to believe there was hope in his voice. 

‘I can’t, Jackie. I will someday soon, though.’ 

‘S’okay.’ Jack shrugged, and spoke to Katherine. ‘Don’t suppose you want to come visit?’

‘I appreciate the invitation.’ Katherine replied. Jack laughed, and held out a hand. 

‘I’m lookin’ forward to working with you, Miss Plumber.’ He said. She shook his hand. 

‘Me too. And, uh, off the record,’ Katherine smiled at both of them, ‘good luck.’ She waved them goodbye, and headed off, back towards the city centre. 

‘I can’t believe a real reporter wants to do a story about us.’ Jack looked a little in shock, the events of the day beginning to sink in. Davey just nodded, unsure how to reply. 

‘Anyway, if you’re sure you won’t come to the lodging house -‘ Jack tried one more time. 

‘Les threatened to eat my dinner if I wasn’t back in time, so -‘ Davey trailed off. 

‘Yeah, ‘course.’ Jack looked down at him shoes. The two stood in silence for a long moment longer than was comfortable. 

‘Anyway, I’d better be going.’ Davey looked over his shoulder in the direction of home. 

‘I’ll, uh - I’ll see you around, Davey.’ Jack lifted his hand as though he was going to reach out for Davey, but stopped himself at the last second and gave an awkward little wave. Davey’s insides twisted and he bit back a smile, waving back. 

The two turned away from each other, Jack already walking off to catch up with the newsies, but Davey faltered a little.

Davey took a deep breath in, summoning all his courage. He’d been able to ask this before, so why not now? 

‘Hey, Jack?’ Jack whipped around at the sound of his voice. ‘Do you want to come back to ours? For dinner?’ Davey asked.

‘Oh, I couldn’t - I wouldn’t wanna impose. Besides, I gotta get back. Y’know, for the boys.’ Jack explained. 

‘You wouldn’t impose.’ Davey said. He prayed that Jack wouldn’t hear how desperate he was for him to agree. ‘My parents would love you to come.’ Jack bit his lip, considering. 

‘I really couldn’t, Davey.’ Jack shook his head. ‘Uh - thank you, though.’ Davey nodded, disappointed. 

‘Well if you -‘ Davey looked away, fiddling with the cuff of his rolled up sleeve. ‘If you do want to, or you want to drop by later - I mean, we’ve always got space for you, Jack.’ Davey winced at how soppy that sounded, but Jack just smiled. 

‘I’ll keep that in mind. You live down by Jacobi’s, right?’ 

‘Yeah.’ Davey was surprised Jack remembered - he’d mentioned it just in passing a few days back. ‘Two blocks down, the house with the blue door and the plants on the windowsill. You’ll know it when you see it.’ 

‘Okay then. I’ll see you around.’ Jack nodded goodbye at him, and turned to leave. 

‘I’ll see you around.’ Davey had hardly taken two steps when Jack spoke again. 

‘Hey, Davey?’ Davey spun round to face him. ‘What we did today...’ Jack hesitated, looking determinedly away from Davey. ‘What we did was pretty cool. What you did. It was cool.’

‘You’re pretty cool yourself, Jackie.’ Davey smiled at him. 

‘Don’t call me that.’ Jack protested, but the way his face lit up at the nickname betrayed him. 

‘You’re doing the right thing, doing this.’ Davey reassured Jack, reaching a hand out and placing it hesitantly on Jack’s shoulder.

‘You really think?’ 

‘I do.’ Davey was trying to convince himself as much as Jack. ‘And if anyone can do this, it’s you, Jack.’ Jack scoffed, shaking his head. ‘I mean it!’ Davey put an arm round Jack’s shoulders - a difficult feat given Jack was a head taller. Jack leaned in to him ever so slightly. 

‘Hey, Jack!’ Crutchie called from somewhere in front of them. Jack jumped away from Davey as though he was made of hot iron. 

‘I’m comin’, Crutchie, jeez!’ Jack shouted back to him. ‘I should -‘ he said to Davey, motioning to Crutchie behind him. 

‘Yeah, of course.’ Davey smiled. ‘I’ll see you, Jackie.’

‘See you, Davey.’ Jack ran off after Crutchie, and Davey watched him, insides twisting even more, as though someone was winding them round and round. Shit. He was really in for it now.


	5. oh, to be alone with you (interlude)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack couldn’t quite breathe, feeling suddenly suspended in time, glued to the spot. All he could feel was Davey, Davey, Davey. Every point where they touched was at the same time scalding hot and comfortingly warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is the title hozier or sufjan stevens? who knows? 
> 
> this chapter is basically the fire escape from 92sies but ....... gayer if thats even possible
> 
> i hope u know how much i appreciate every kudos and especially every comment it means the world to me when u let me know u enjoy this dumb story!

‘Don’t be too long out there!’ Davey heard his mother call from the kitchen. 

‘I won’t, Ma. Goodnight!’ He called back. 

‘Goodnight, David.’ She replied. The light inside the house dimmed, and Davey settled back into his seat on the fire escape. With the railings digging into his back, and the summer air stiflingly hot, he was far from comfortable, but he didn’t care. From here, he could read - not like inside, where his father would berate him for burning down the lamp so late at night. Here, he had the light from the neighbours’ windows, and, failing that, the moonlight. Tonight, the moon was just a sliver, a thin slit cut in the fabric of the night sky, and so he was left hoping that the warm orange light of the neighbour’s kitchen would stay on long enough for him to finish. 

‘What’cha reading?’ Davey nearly jumped out of his skin as a figure emerged from the darkness, clambering up the fire escape. 

‘Jackie, you scared the life out of me!’ Davey hissed. Jack just laughed, leaning against the railing. 

‘You didn’t answer my question.’ He pointed at Davey’s open book. 

‘It’s, uh, Shakespeare.’ Davey held up the book’s cover, showing Jack, who raised his eyebrows. 

‘Fancy stuff. Which one?’ Jack asked. 

‘Romeo and Juliet.’ Davey admitted. Stupid and predictable, he knew, but it had been the first Shakespeare he’d read, years ago in school, and he could never find anything that matched the comfort he found in reading it. 

‘Oh, I know that one.’ Jack said proudly. ‘The star-crossed lovers and all that rubbish.’ 

‘It’s not rubbish!’ Davey protested. 

‘I know, I know, I’m messin’ with you.’ Jack gave Davey a grin that made Davey’s stomach twist and his chest tighten. ‘I think it’s impressive you understand all that academic stuff. Flies right over my head.’ Davey wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so he just stayed quiet. The silence stretched between them, but did not become uncomfortable. Jack was the one to break it, after what felt like hours. 

‘Sorry not to come earlier.’ He spoke quietly, uncertainly. ‘I know you wouldn’t have minded, but I didn’t want to...’ he trailed off. 

‘It’s okay, Jack. I understand.’ Davey gave what he hoped was a comforting smile. ‘You wanna sit...?’ He motioned to the empty space next to him. Jack wavered for a second, unsure, but then planted himself next to Davey, and leant back against the railings. 

‘Nice view from up here.’ Jack gestured to the city skyline stretching out for miles, spotted with the orange lights of windows. ‘You really should come to the lodging house sometime. I sleep up in the penthouse, y’know. View’s even better than this one.’ 

‘I’ll take you up on that offer.’ Davey stared out at the city - or rather, stared anywhere but at Jack. He could feel every breath Jack took, every slight movement he made next to him. 

‘How come you’re selling papes?’ Davey asked, a little surprised at himself for having the courage. ‘I mean, you know why I am. How did you start?’ 

Jack looked surprised too, and took a moment to speak, almost as if he was considering whether or not he would answer. 

‘Left home when I was... well, I must’a been a bit older than Les is now.’ Jack spoke carefully, and Davey wondered if he was doing so to avoid letting something slip. ‘Spent a lotta time sleepin’ anywhere I could, and a bunch of older newsies found me. Took me in, paid for me to stay at the lodging house, taught me the trade ‘til I could pay my own board. They’s all long gone by now, gotta be six, seven years older’n me.’ 

‘Why’d you leave?’ Davey asked, quietly. He dared to looked up at Jack, and was met with Jack’s eyes already on him. 

‘My dad didn’t...’ Jack took a deep breath, in and out, preparing himself. ‘He treated my ma real bad. And when she died, he started on me and I knew even then that - that I had to get outta there.’ He was frowning a little, faint creases on his forehead. Davey wanted desperately to hold Jack close and smooth them away. But the two boys rigidly maintained the tiny gap between them, a certain fear stopping them from relaxing into each other. 

‘I’m sorry, Jackie.’ Davey’s voice came out almost a whisper. Jack blinked heavily, and nudged Davey gently. 

‘Ain’t your fault. ‘’Sides, it was the best decision I ever made, becomin’ a newsie.’ 

‘Those kids love you.’ Davey smiled at the thought, at the memory of the newsies crowded together around Jack stood on a table at Jacobi’s. 

‘You’re flattering me, Davey, really. I just do what those newsies did for me years ago. Passin’ on the banner.’ In the darkness, it was difficult to tell, but Davey was sure he could see Jack’s cheeks flush. 

‘Well, they all think the damn sun revolves around you. And I can see why.’ Jack’s breath caught at that. Did Davey mean - did he mean what Jack hoped? Jack’s heart hammered against his chest, stomach turning excited flips just at the thought. 

‘What - what do you mean, Davey?’ Jack asked, cursing the way his voice came out so nervous and hoarse. 

‘Y’know...’ Davey waved his hands in the air, gesturing something he couldn’t quite capture in words. ‘You’re a good leader, is all. More than good. Pretty damn brilliant.’

Oh. Of course. Of course that’s what he meant. Jack tried to squash his disappointment, hoping desperately that it didn’t show on his face, and thanking the darkness for concealing it if it did. 

‘Right, yeah.’ He fumbled over his words, distracted by Davey’s words and his own confusion. ‘Well, I - I couldn’t do it without you, Mister Vice President.’ He gave a shaky laugh, and, thankfully, Davey laughed too. 

‘It was all you, Jack, and you know it. Nobody needs a damn Vice President.’ Davey said. 

‘I sure as hell do.’ Jack said, regretting it the moment he did. Davey turned and looked straight at him, questioningly. Davey nudged him playfully with his shoulder, closing the gap between them. Their arms were touching now, shoulder to elbow, and Davey’s face was just inches from Jack’s. Slowly, hesitantly, Davey placed his head gently onto Jack’s shoulder. Jack tensed briefly, surprised, but relaxed into his touch.

Jack couldn’t quite breathe, feeling suddenly suspended in time, glued to the spot. All he could feel was Davey, Davey, Davey. Every point where they touched was at the same time scalding hot and comfortingly warm. 

‘Are you scared, Jack?’ Davey asked, quietly, looking up at Jack’s face from where his head lay on his shoulder. 

‘Do I look scared?’ Jack laughed hollowly. Davey just carried on staring up at him with those big, blue-grey eyes, like he knew Jack wanted to say more. ‘Ask me again in the morning.’ 

Davey nodded, understanding. 

‘What about you?’ Jack asked. ‘Are you scared?’

‘I’m terrified, Jackie.’ Davey said, remarkably matter-of-fact

Jack’s breath hitched. There was a pain in his chest, a pinpoint that stung like a wound. Next to Davey, he felt a coward. Davey might have said he was afraid, but he was brave enough to admit it - much braver than Jack was. 

Jack felt suddenly very small, and, although Davey was so real and so tangible, very alone. 

‘You’re not doing this on your own, y’know.’ Davey murmured, perhaps to himself. 

‘I know, Dave.’ Jack tentatively moved an arm round Davey’s shoulders, and squeezed him a little closer. Davey smiled and relaxed into Jack. ‘I might be scared, but with you -‘

‘Davey, it’s late! Come in!’ At the sound of his mother’s voice, Davey jumped away from Jack, scrambling to his feet. 

‘I, uh - I should go. She’ll come looking for me if I -‘ Davey stammered, blushing and looking determinedly away from Jack. 

‘Yeah, yeah. ‘Course.’ Jack stood up, equally flustered. The two of them stood, face to face, uncertain. 

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Jackie.’ Davey said. 

‘See you tomorrow, Davey.’ Jack wavered for a moment, then extended a hand. Davey took it - not as if to shake, but rather just to hold. 

They couldn’t have held on to each other for more than a few seconds before Jack was slipping down the fire escape and away into the night. It felt to Davey both as if it had been the most lightning-fast of touches, and as if they had been holding onto each other for a lifetime. 

Davey stayed on the fire escape for just a few minutes more, watching Jack disappear into the darkness, heart stuttering at every flashing shadow and silhouette in the hope that maybe, maybe, he would catch one final glimpse of Jack.


	6. seize the day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Now is when we stare down the odds and seize the day. This isn’t something that can wait. And it’s not gonna be easy, but we can only win this taking it a minute at a time.’ For someone shaking with nerves, Davey’s voice was incredibly even, strong, commanding. Jack couldn’t tear his eyes away from him, frozen in awe. 
> 
> All Jack could think of was the night on the fire escape. How Davey had admitted how scared he was, and how Jack had known then that he was the more courageous of the two. Right now, Davey was braver than Jack could ever be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was s o hard to write! i really really love it though.   
> as usual, join me on tumblr @weisenbachfelded - my inbox is open for u to send one shot prompts that i’ll post here!   
> ever dreamed of a javid or enjoltaire fic that you wish someone would write? well here’s your chance! send me ideas cos im stuck in lockdown and i just want to write something that’s not schoolwork

The trip to Brooklyn was far from a success. As if Davey hadn’t been nervous enough about an entire day spent in far too close proximity to Jack, now he was meeting a whole other bunch of newsies? Led by a guy even Racetrack was scared of? Just the thought of it had made Davey feel nauseous with nerves. Convinced into dragging Les along by his parents, Davey spent the entire day keeping a safe distance between him and Jack, terrified Les - or Jack, for that matter - would somehow become suspicious of his feelings. 

Spot Conlon was not what Davey had expected. He was, however, just as intimidating as the newsies had made him seem, although Jack seemed not to care. 

Spot Conlon was also not interested in striking. It made Davey angry, the way he spoke about the newsies as if they were cowards, claiming they would run at the first sign of trouble. Just a few days spent with them and Davey was already defensive of the newsies - but Jack, much to Davey’s surprise, accepted what Spot had to say with little protest. 

They walked back to Brooklyn as the sun set, the journey much longer and less excited than it had been that morning. Jack made them stop on the Brooklyn bridge, grabbing Davey by the shoulder to turn him to face the setting sun, which hovered above the water. 

‘Beautiful, ain’t it?’ Jack leant against the railings and out over the river, the wind tousling his hair. Les was further ahead of them, still walking. He was tired and moody and desperate to get back home. Davey took advantage of the fleeting moments away from his little brother to lean against the railings with Jack. 

‘It is pretty beautiful.’ Davey said, smiling. The soft orange glow of the setting sun lit up Jack’s face. Usually sharp angles and bright eyes, the light made him look gentler, warmer. Davey’s heart felt like a weight in his chest, heavy and hot as though it was melting. Ever so slowly, hesitantly, he leant into Jack’s side. At this, Jack put an arm round his shoulder, squeezing him closer. 

‘More beautiful in Santa Fe.’ Jack smiled wistfully out at the river. ‘I can’t wait to see it.’ 

‘Santa Fe?’ Davey asked. ‘You’re going to Santa Fe?’ 

‘Soon as I can.’ Jack replied excitedly. ‘Gonna take the train out there, start everything over.’ 

‘Oh.’ Davey said, stupidly. He couldn’t think of any other reply that wouldn’t betray how desperately he wanted to beg Jack not to go. But that was crazy. And stupid. He’d only known Jack for a few days. And yeah, maybe he’d gone and gotten stupidly attached to this crazy, smart-assed boy. But that didn’t mean Jack felt the same. It wasn’t even like Davey fit in with the newsies, with Jack’s life in Manhattan. How could Davey dictate whether or not he went to Santa Fe? 

‘It don’t matter that we didn’t get Brooklyn. And it ain’t your fault neither.’ Jack said, still staring out at the river. It was as if Jack had read his mind, extracting his deepest anxieties. Davey turned to look up at him. 

‘I didn’t - I don’t -‘ Davey stammered. 

‘I know you were thinkin’ it, Dave.’ Davey could hear the small smile in Jack’s voice. ‘You can’t blame it on yourself.’ 

‘I - I guess not.’ Davey stared down at the ground. ‘Still. I could tell I didn’t help. Spot Conlon didn’t like me.’

‘Spot Conlon don’t like anybody.’ Jack scoffed. ‘Hell, I don’t even know if he likes me, and I’ve known him six years.’ 

‘It’s different, though, Jackie.’ Davey pulled away from him. ‘He doesn’t think I belong with you guys, and he’s right. I’m just gonna screw this whole strike thing up for you.’

‘Davey, what the hell are you talking about?’ 

‘What must the boys think of me? Comin’ in here and messin’ everything up in just a few days. It’s not my place.’ Davey turned away, desperate to hide his face from Jack as tears pricked sharply behind his eyes. 

‘Hey. Hey, Davey.’ Jack reached out, hand hovering an inch above his shoulder. ‘Your place is with the newsies. Your place is wherever we is. And if we’s on strike, then your place is leadin’ it.’ 

‘But I ain’t - I ain’t earned it or anything. Not like you have, Jack.’ Davey brushed a hand across his eyes, trying to surreptitiously get rid of the tears that had spilled over his lashes. 

‘You damn well have and you know it. Them kids admire you like crazy already, Davey. Hey. C’mere.’ Jack pulled him in roughly and hugged him tightly, full of a kindness Davey knew he would struggle to put into words. 

‘You really think so?’ Davey mumbled into Jack’s shoulder, his hands coming round to rest lightly on Jack’s back. 

‘I know it.’ Jack replied, mouth mere inches from Davey’s ear. Jack released him, but held on to his hand. ‘C’mon, Davey.  
Let’s catch up to him.’ He jerked his head to where Les was a speck in the distance. 

They walked in comfortable silence, the weight of their words filling the gap between them. Neither one let go of the other’s hand, and Davey walked with baited breath at the hope that their entwined hands sparked in him. 

‘I don’t wanna hear any more of that self-doubting shit.’ Jack said, suddenly. Davey looked at him to find him already staring. His reply died in his throat at the gentle frown on Jack’s forehead, at his genuine concern and care. Davey just nodded his head, smiled, and squeezed Jack’s hand. 

The next morning, the square was alive and trembling with excitement and anticipation. Most of the Manhattan newsies had gathered, but between them they couldn’t have been more than a hundred. 

‘Is anyone else coming?’ Davey asked the group at large, beginning to worry. 

‘Don’t got a clue.’ Jack responded. He didn’t look worried, which calmed Davey a little. 

‘Youse seen Spot Conlon, right?’ Racetrack asked, jittery with nerves. ‘What’d he say?’ 

‘Sure, we seen him.’ Jack said. ‘And he was very impressed, wasn’t he?’ 

‘I’ll say! Especially with me. He told me so.’ Les replied proudly. Jack smiled at him. Spot had taken a shining to Les - however much he had tried to hide it. 

‘So they’re with us?’ Race asked. 

‘Not exactly.’ Davey sighed, eyes still darting around nervously, searching for any sign that more newsies would join them. 

‘They wanted proof we’re not gonna fold at the first sign of trouble.’ Jack admitted. The newsies protested, dismayed. ‘But we ain’t gonna! We ain’t alone. We still got Harlem, and -‘ 

‘Not so fast, boss.’ Mush replied, frowning. ‘Harlem wants to know what Brooklyn’s gonna do.’ Jack’s stomach dropped. Shit. 

‘What about Queens?’ He asked. ‘Midtown?’ 

‘The same.’ Said Race. ‘Specs got it from Queens, too.’ Davey hid his face in his hands. What the hell did they do now? The Manhattan newsies might have been feisty, but there was no way they could take on the papers on their own. Across the square, the Delanceys were glaring menacingly at them. Racetrack glared straight back, and spat on the floor. Les tugged in Davey’s sleeve, looking up at him nervously. 

‘Are we doing the right thing?’ He asked. For the first time since the strike had begun, Davey could tell his brother was afraid. He pulled him into a hug, suddenly terrified too. Les was involved now, how could Davey protect him? He was just a kid, not old enough to be taking on the newsies’ troubles, no matter how much Les adored the other boys. 

‘Of course we are.’ Davey replied, but he wasn’t even sure he was telling the truth.

‘Hey, Davey.’ Race lowered his voice. ‘Maybe we put this off a couple days.’ Davey could see the concern in his eyes, not only for the strike, but for him, and for Les. 

Much to Davey’s dismay, the newsies around them began to agree, murmuring affirmation that spread through the crowd like wildfire. 

‘No. No - we can’t.’ Davey gave Les a comforting squeeze and stood up. He turned automatically to Jack for help, pleading with his gaze. Jack’s mouth was set firm, a silent promise to Davey. 

‘We can’t back down now.’ Jack raised his voice, carrying over the chatter. He clambered up onto the statue at the centre of the square to better address them. Davey smiled up at him, wordless gratitude. Jack just frowned down at him, grinned, grabbed his hand, and hauled him up to stand next to him. 

‘No matter who shows today, or tomorrow, or however long it takes to win this, we do not stand down!’ The newsies were listening to Jack rapturously. Davey would never tire of marvelling at the way he captured the crowd, reeling them in with his words. ‘Like it or not, now is when we take a stand.’

‘How’s about we just don’t show for work?’ Albert called, ever nervous. 

‘They’ll just replace us.’ Jack shrugged. ‘We need to stand our ground.’ The newsies muttered, half in agreement with Finch and half with Jack. Frustrated, Jack turned to Davey. The newsies has been convinced just two days before. Would every day be like this? A new struggle just to motivate, let alone to carry out the strike? ‘Tell ‘em, Davey.’ Jack pleaded. Davey took a deep, shaky breath, fists clenching at his sides. 

‘Now is when we stare down the odds and seize the day. This isn’t something that can wait. And it’s not gonna be easy, but we can only win this taking it a minute at a time.’ For someone shaking with nerves, Davey’s voice was incredibly even, strong, commanding. Jack couldn’t tear his eyes away from him, frozen in awe. 

All Jack could think of was the night on the fire escape. How Davey had admitted how scared he was, and how Jack had known then that he was the more courageous of the two. Right now, Davey was braver than Jack could ever be. 

‘There ain’t many of us.’ Jack heard himself saying, continuing Davey’s train of thought as if it were his own. ‘But that don’t mean we’s helpless. We’s fightin’ for every newsie in this city. Manhattan, Queens, Brooklyn - just ‘cause they ain’t here right now doesn’t mean they ain’t our brothers.’ The newsies’ murmurs grew louder at Jack’s words, encouraged, and the electric excitement of before began to crackle in the air around them. 

The circulation bell rang, loud and clear. Every person in the square held their breath as one, collective fear holding them paralysed. Wiesel pushed his window open and leaned out, flanked by the Delancey brothers. 

‘The sun is up and the birds is singin’. A beautiful day to crack some heads, ain’t it? Step right up and get your papes.’ He sneered at the crowd. 

‘You workin’ or trespassin’? What’s your pleasure?’ Morris Delancey spat at them, stepping forward and cracking his knuckles. The newsies tensed. 

Three kids walked past them and toward the circulation window. Each of them couldn’t have been more than fifteen, skinny and scared-looking. 

‘Who are they?’ Davey murmured to Jack. 

‘Scabs.’ Jack replied, loud enough for the kids to hear. ‘What do you think?’

‘If they think they can just waltz in here and take our jobs -‘ Race stormed towards them, pushing through the crowd of newsies. 

‘We can handle them!’ Crutchie called. The newsies shouted their agreement, and began to move towards the kids, who were collecting their papers. They looked back at the crowd of newsies with nothing less than fear in their eyes. 

‘No!’ Davey called desperately. ‘We all stand together, or we don’t have a chance!’ Davey reached instinctively for Jack, and found Jack’s fingers searching for his. Jack squeezed his hand briefly. 

‘I know, Davey. It’s alright.’ Jack murmured to him. ‘All of you! Listen to Davey. You gotta stop.’ He yelled above the racket of the crowd. 

The newsies turned to him, their shouts quietening to a mutter, reluctant but also a little embarrassed. Jack did not, however, address the newsies. 

‘Hey. You two.’ He called to the scabs. They stared up at him, terrified. ‘Yeah, you. Listen. I know somebody put youse up to this. Probably paid you some extra money, too?’ The kids shared a guilty look. Yeah? Well, it ain’t right. Pulitzer thinks we’re gutter rats with no respect for nothin’, includin’ each other. Is that who we are? Well, we stab each other in the back and, yeah, that’s who we are. But if we stand together, we change the whole game.’ 

The entire square stood still, transfixed by Jack’s words. At some point, Davey had climbed down from the statue. Realising this, Jack stumbled over his words, and quickly sought out Davey in the crowd. He was standing at the base of the statue, smiling up at him. There was a look in his eyes that Jack thought - hoped - was pride. Davey, sending his hesitation, nodded his head - the tiniest of movements, but it was enough to give Jack the encouragement he needed to continue. 

‘It ain’t just about us. All across this city there are boys and girls who ought to be out playin’ or going to school. Instead they’re slavin’ to support themselves and their folks. Ain’t no crime to bein’ poor, and not a one of us complains if the work we do is hard. All we ask is a square deal. Fellas... for the sake of all the kids in every sweatshop, factory and slaughterhouse in this town, I beg you... throw down your papers and join the strike.’ 

The newsies stared the kids down with narrowed eyes and baited breath. 

The kids looked at each other, fearful but determined. The tallest of the three - and, Jack supposed, the eldest - marched forward and threw down his stack of papers. Jack grinned, jumping down from the statue to spit and shake his hand. The kid looked terrified, Jack thought, but no less terrified than any of the other newsies felt. 

‘Welcome to the club, kid.’ Jack clapped him comfortingly on the shoulder. Hesitantly, but just as determinedly as the eldest, the two other kids followed suit, to welcoming cheers and shouts from the newsies. 

Romeo struck up a chant, and the newsies erupted into a rabble, fists punching the air or tearing up newspapers. Smiling, Jack’s heart swelled with pride - but he didn’t join them. Instead, he wove through the crowd, searching for Davey. 

Neither looking where they were going in desperation to find the other, the two collided. Davey grabbed Jack’s shoulders, laughing with joy. 

‘You did it, Jackie!’ Davey beamed at him. ‘You really did it!’ Jack just laughed back, giddy with happiness and with the feeling of Davey’s pride in him. 

‘Hey! Jack! David!’ A voice cried over the din. 

‘Katherine!’ Davey yelled back, waving to her. The two pushed their way over to where she stood on the edge of the crowd, marvelling at the spectacle. 

‘This is incredible!’ Katherine laughed incredulously. ‘Can we...?’ She gestured to a man with a large camera stood next to her. 

‘Hey!’ Jack shouted at the newsies. The few who heard him quickly spread the word, and, in a whirlwind, Davey found himself squeezed up next to Jack, one hand clamped firmly on Les’ shoulder to keep him close, and blinded by the flash of a camera bulb. 

The noise and the bright light was staggeringly overwhelming, and, when the newsies dispersed once more, Davey hung on desperately to Jack and to Les. Les was tugging at his shirt sleeve, eager to join the action. Jack, on the other hand, stayed steady next to Davey, understanding and reassuring. 

‘I’m okay, Jack.’ Davey heard himself say. ‘I’m okay. Let’s - let’s go.’ 

‘You sure, Davey?’ Jack asked, frowning. Davey nodded, clenching his free fist and holding Les’ hand firmly with the other. Jack gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, then disappeared into the crowd with a gleeful shout. 

Les dragged Davey after him, and they were quickly swept up in the wave of newsies chanting and yelling and laughing. 

Suddenly, a group of men - at least twenty of them, and all twice as wide as Davey - emerged from behind Wiesel’s counter, the Delanceys at their head. Wiesel was directing them straight toward the crowd of newsies. 

‘Get ‘em!’ A voice Davey recognised immediately as Jack’s directed the newsies. For a split second, time slowed. Les had the sense to react before Davey did, pulling him out of the crowd and away from the oncoming threat. 

And then time came crashing down around them. 

Newsies were clambering onto wagons, throwing huge stacks of paper, throwing punches and kicks - and receiving their fair share of them too. Thanks almost only to their numbers, they were able to fight back with little trouble. Just as Davey and Les escaped the worst of the brawl, a whistle sounded. He heard the newsies exclaim in relief, but, ever quick, Davey realised what was happening. 

‘Hey, it’s about time you showed up!’ Romeo yelled to the police officers now surrounding them. ‘They’re slaughtering us -‘ he was interrupted by the policeman smacking him to the ground, and stepping over him with a sneer. 

‘Les, get outta here.’ Davey urges his brother. ‘Run, and don’t stop till you’re home.’ His enthusiasm vanished, Les didn’t need telling twice. He hugged Davey quickly, and sprinted away. 

Davey charged straight into the crowd, grabbing Romeo under the arms and pulling him out from the centre of the fight. He propped him up, and ducked back in, again and again, hauling unconscious kids out, staggering to safety with newsies’ arms round his shoulders. 

‘Jack! Help! Romeo, Albert, Finch!’ Davey whipped around to see Crutchie, cornered by the Delanceys. He sprinted towards him, yelling for help. Davey pushed Crutchie out of the way, a barrier between him and the Delanceys. 

And then everything went black. Next he knew, he was on the floor, the edges of his vision blurry, and sharp pain stinging his shoulder and his right cheekbone. Head throbbing, he pushed himself up, looking frantically around - just in time to see Snyder drag Crutchie away, bound in handcuffs. 

‘Jack -‘ Davey tried to shout, but his voice came out hardly a whisper. He clambered shakily to his feet, stumbling out of the crowd. ‘Jack, please -‘

All around him, newsies were lying beaten and bruised, being dragged away in handcuffs, or else running for their lives down back alleys. 

‘Crutchie!’ Jack cried. Davey looked up to where the voice had come from - a fire escape two stories above them. Jack was - Jack was leaving. Running. Davey stared helplessly up at him. Jack finally tore his eyes from where Crutchie was being loaded into a police wagon with a handful of equally bruised newsies, and looked down to see Davey. 

‘Jack.’ Davey said, pleading. 

Jack shook his head, and ran up the fire escape and away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i could write essays about davey and bravery and jack and fear but that is for another time  
> updates are coming! i promise! i have no intention of abandoning this fic and your kudos and comments keep me writing xxx


	7. i got nothing if i ain’t got -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a split second, Davey’s eyes fluttered closed and - although Jack would later convince himself he had imagined it - he leaned ever so slightly into Jack’s touch. 
> 
> As soon as he had, though, he snapped straight back to reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is really short?? but idk i didnt want to write too much of them just being mad at each other bcos that’s too sad for me  
> anyway enjoy! and hit me up on tumblr @weisenbachfelded

Jack stumbled up the fire escape round the back of the theatre, gasping for breath. He collapsed against the railings, head reeling. 

Why the fuck had he come here? Someone would find him here - Medda, or Racetrack, or - 

He thought he might throw up. 

What had he done? He’d seen the newsies - his friends, his brothers, fighting, bleeding, hurting. And he’d run. 

Some fucking union President he was. 

That was all he knew how to do, he supposed. Run. It was an easy solution - or, rather, an easy way out. As Medda would remind him, running from a problem only made it run after you a whole lot faster. 

God, he just wanted to leave. Santa Fe seemed a million times better than this shit that he’d gotten himself into - never mind his friends and his job and this city. Everything he’d liked about it once upon a time had gone to shit.

There was no point staying for friends that he abandoned and a non-existent job. 

But Santa Fe could be different. Hell, he knew it was different. Forget the dirty Manhattan streets and the smog that hovered along the skyline - Santa Fe was clean and green and pretty, and everything that this place wasn’t. And, most importantly, Santa Fe didn’t have any reminders of here. Of now. 

‘Jack.’ 

Jack turned sharply at Davey’s voice, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Davey had a cut, still edged with drying blood, down one side of his face. His left cheekbone was swollen and puffy, his shirt torn, buttons missing, and fresh-forming bruises trailing a path down underneath his collar. 

Jack had never seen this expression on Davey’s face, never seen him so disappointed, never seen his eyes so full of anger - and yet, here it was, and all intended for him. 

‘Davey, I didn’t -‘ Jack started. 

‘Didn’t what, Jack?’ Davey interrupted. His tone was bitter, hollow - so unlike Davey, Jack thought. There was none of the emotion, the passion, the life that he was so used to hearing when Davey spoke. None of the fire in his eyes that he was so used to drowning in. This... this felt more like he was choking. 

‘Didn’t run?’ Davey continued. ‘Didn’t hide? Didn’t leave Crutchie? Didn’t leave me?’ Jack couldn’t answer. His throat was dry, hoarse, his lips unable to form words. 

‘You’re a damn coward, Jack Kelly.’ He spat. 

‘Davey -‘

‘Don’t call me that!’ Davey said angrily. He turned away from Jack, like he couldn’t even bear to look at him. They stood in silence, Jack searching desperately for the words to tell Davey what he needed to say. Even with his back turned, Jack could see Davey’s chest rise and fall with every breath, see his shoulders trembling ever so slightly - although whether it was from nerves, anger, or adrenaline, Jack didn’t know. 

‘You know what?’ Davey rounded on him one more, pointing a furious finger at Jack. ‘You’re fucking selfish, Jack.’ Jack has never heard Davey swear like that - not with so much anger and hatred behind it. ‘You saw the bulls come, and you ran. And you saw them take Crutchie, and you saw me - you saw me beg you to stay - and you ran again.’ 

‘I’m sorry, Davey - David -‘ Jack corrected himself at Davey’s glare. ‘I swear, I wanted -‘ He trailed off. 

‘Wanted what? What could you possibly have wanted that meant you still ran away when those kids needed you most?’ 

Davey stared at him expectantly, waiting on an answer Jack didn’t have. Instead, he simply gazed straight back, blinking back tears. Almost without realising, Jack reached out a hand to cradle Davey’s injured cheek. 

‘Look what they done to you.’ He murmured softly. ‘I’m so sorry, Dave -‘

For a split second, Davey’s eyes fluttered closed and - although Jack would later convince himself he had imagined it - he leaned ever so slightly into Jack’s touch. 

As soon as he had, though, he snapped straight back to reality. 

‘Don’t fucking touch me!’ Davey batted Jack’s hand aside, voice cracking in his anger. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, like he was trying to push back tears pricking at his eyelids. 

‘I can’t believe -‘ Davey broke off and took a deep, shaky breath in, eyes still shut tight. ‘I can’t believe you said all of that - all of that stuff to them - to me -‘ he stopped again, breathing deeply, trying desperately to regain coherence. 

‘It’s not that I didn’t mean it!’ Jack protested. ‘I shouldn’t have run but - I didn’t realise that -‘

‘You didn’t mean it.’ Davey’s lip curled. ‘If you’d meant any of what you said, you’d be with them right now.’ 

‘This is too dangerous for them, for all of us - David, please -‘ Jack reached out to him but Davey shrunk back. 

‘Spot Conlon was fucking right.’ Davey backed away from Jack, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘First sign of trouble and -‘ he snapped his fingers. ‘You’re gone. Just like that. Some leader you are.’

And Davey was gone. Disappeared back down the fire escape, and into the dusky shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since this is a short chapter have some headcanons that ive been thinking about that aren’t explicit in the au but are there anyway:  
> • nonbinary davey jacobs. yes i am self projecting and no i do not take criticism  
> • i am SO MAD at myself for not thinking of this earlier and writing it in but who knows maybe i will later: sarah jacobs takes a job at jacobi’s while her dad is laid off and after katherine meets the newsies at the strike they start talking and anyway. newsbians!!


	8. how easy you are to need (interlude)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey’s words had stung, sure, sharp and painful. But more than that, what he’d said had been true. It wasn’t out of malice or spite, there had been no insults thrown, no blame, no spiteful slips of Davey’s tongue. No, what Davey had said had been out of disappointment. His fiery anger was justified - the result of Jack’s selfishness and cowardice. This didn’t sting. This feeling, this loss - Jack wasn’t sure his heart would ever stop aching with the sheer grief he was feeling.

Jack stayed out on the fire escape long after Davey had left, unable to escape his words. They clung to him like a cobweb, impossible to shake off. 

_Some leader you are._

Davey’s words had stung, sure, sharp and painful. But more than that, what he’d said had been true. It wasn’t out of malice or spite, there had been no insults thrown, no blame, no spiteful slips of Davey’s tongue. No, what Davey had said had been out of disappointment. His fiery anger was justified - the result of Jack’s selfishness and cowardice. This didn’t sting. This feeling, this loss - Jack wasn’t sure his heart would ever stop aching with the sheer grief he was feeling. 

The last time he was here had been with Davey and Les, exhilarated and out of breath, running from Snyder with Davey’s hand tight in his. 

The last time he’d been on a fire escape had been with Davey, breathless again, but not from running - simply from the tension of the one-inch gap between them in the hot summer air. 

The last time he’d seen the sunset had been with Davey, on the bridge back from Brooklyn. That evening, the air had felt electric, the soft golden light of the setting sun lighting every nerve in his body aflame - and Davey burning brightest, most beautiful. 

Jack stormed inside and slammed the door behind him. Everything he looked at, everything he felt, everything reminded him of Davey, Davey, Davey. His entire body was screaming out at him to succumb to it, to melt into the thought and the feeling of Davey, to let it consume him, swallow him. But he just swallowed it down and walked through the flies until he could see Medda on stage. 

Sitting with his legs hanging over the edge of the catwalk, Jack gave the show half his attention - the thought of Davey still refusing to disappear. 

And Crutchie - Crutchie, yelling out for help, so scared and so desperate. Jack had promised he would help him, always be there for him, always protect him. And he had, up until now. Now, when it mattered the most. 

‘Well look who we have here!’ Medda’s voice lifted Jack from his trance, and he stood up to greet her. ‘Am I glad to see you!’ She held out her arms and he hugged her tightly. 

‘Hey, Miss Medda.’ Jack replied, voice coming out barely a murmur. 

‘What’s wrong, Jack?’ She pulled back, hands on his shoulders, studying his face with a frown. 

‘I -‘ Jack started, but before he could get any more words out, he dissolved into tears, and buried his face in his hands. 

‘Oh, Jack.’ Medda hugged him again, patting his back comfortingly. ‘It’s okay.’ Jack melted into her embrace, shaking with sobs. They stayed there for what felt like hours, Medda mumbling soothing words into his ear. When Jack finally steadied his breathing, he pulled away and wiped his eyes. 

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Medda asked gently. 

‘I - I don’t know.’ Jack replied, looking at his feet. Medda simply took his hand in response, and led him out of the flies, down winding stairs, in and out of stacks of props and sets, and into her dressing room. 

Once in there, Medda searched for a handkerchief, and gently dabbed at Jack’s eyes until they were dry. She pressed a motherly kiss to his forehead, and set to work getting out of her costume. She took off her hat and heels, and unpinned her curls. Jack took a seat in a battered old armchair, and curled up, tucking his knees into his chest. He’d done this as long as he could remember - curled up in this chair, watched Medda prepare for or wind down from a show. It was methodical, comforting; Jack knew every step of the routine. 

_Hat, hair, heels,_ she’d told an entranced eleven-year-old Jack. _Last to go on, first to come off. Uncomfortable bastards, the three of them._

Next, her makeup. When he was younger, he had loved watching her put it on, paint her lips bright pink and her eyes shimmering gold. On the best nights, she would let him shuffle around in her shoes and her hat, re-enacting his own performance of her show. Once, she’d even swiped some sparkling gold shadow on his eyelids, and he had spent hours staring at himself in the mirror, blinking disbelievingly as the colour flickered under the dressing room lights. 

When she was down to just her dress, Medda pulled up a chair and sat in front of Jack. 

‘Was it to do with that strike?’ Medda asked, blunt as ever. Jack hung his head. 

‘Hey, ain’t no need to be ashamed. I’m proud of you for doin’ it, kid. It’s the right thing to do.’ 

‘I ran away from ‘em, Medda. The cops, they were beatin’ us bloody, and I just ran away. They got - they got Crutchie.’ Jack’s voice broke, and he swallowed down sobs. 

‘It’s not your fault, Jack.’ Medda said softly. Jack shook his head, unable to speak. ‘No, it’s not.’ She continued, stern. ‘You have protected them your whole life. Ain’t no shame to being scared now.’ 

‘I could’a been there. I could’a protected him. All of them.’ Jack squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the flashing memories of the newsies falling, one by one.

‘You can’t just sit here wallowing in self-pity.’ Medda rested a hand on his arm. ‘Say, what about your boy? Davey?’ 

‘He ain’t my boy.’ Jack said, bitterly. ‘He - I think -‘ Jack crumpled. ‘I think I lost him.’ 

‘Oh, honey. I’m sorry.’ 

‘It hurts, Medda. I don’t know if he’s okay, I don’t know anythin’ except he hates me.’ 

‘Who, Davey?’ Medda said incredulously. She gave a quiet chuckle. ‘He doesn’t. I don’t think he’s got in in him to hate - and especially not to hate you.’ Jack stayed silent, pressing his lips together and desperately thinking of a way to change the subject. Even thinking of Davey was too much, too painful. 

‘Can I - can I stay here tonight? I can’t face the boys back at the lodging house.’ He asked. Medda had a room at the back of the theatre - nothing much, just a mattress and blanket, left over from some show years ago. He didn’t use the room often - mostly because it wasn’t particularly comfortable - but every once in a while the lodging house was too full, or there was a brawl, and Jack would escape to the theatre. 

Medda leaned forward and enveloped him in a hug, warm and safe. 

‘Of course you can. But you know it won’t be like this forever. Those kids wouldn’t be able stand you not being around.‘

‘Thanks, Miss Medda.’ Jack smiled at her. 

‘Go get some sleep, baby.’ Medda squeezed his shoulder. ‘I gotta get outta this dress. Oh, and while you’re here, do some painting for me. Take your mind off... everything.’

‘I will. Goodnight, Medda.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! hope ur enjoying! depression is kicking my butt while we’re in lockdown but writing this fic and reading all ur comments is one of the things that’s really getting me through. sending love to u all xxx


	9. king of new york

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bunch of kids on the page looked nothing like - well, a bunch of kids. They were proud, defiant, strong as any battalion and a thousand times braver. That didn’t look like him, either, standing front and centre, chin tilted up, half-smiling, daring the camera. He didn’t think he could ever look like that, look commanding, or confident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look! another update!  
> i am loving writing this and i kind of love how this chapter turned out  
> thank u to everyone who has commented ur all so kind and i'm so happy to be bringing a bit of joy with this fic  
> as always, say hi on tumblr @weisenbachfelded !

The newsies reconvened in the square the next morning. Far from the rabble and chaos of yesterday, they simply sat around in small groups, watching as scabs picked up stacks of papers, as policemen patrolled nearby. Their ranks were decidedly smaller, although the lack of energy made them feel even more so. 

Davey had left Les at home, though it had pained him to do so after the way he’d protested and pleaded to come. His parents, thankfully, had agreed that it just wasn’t safe enough out there - especially after Davey had arrived home late and injured. They didn’t know, however, that he had snuck up the fire escape and through the window, so that he could change his ripped shirt and clean up the cut on his face. 

They didn’t know that the reason he’d gotten home so late was because he’d spent hours searching for Jack.

Try as he might, Davey couldn’t shake the memory of his and Jack’s argument, of the fear and hurt he could see deep in Jack’s eyes - hurt that he had caused. Davey leaned back against the base of the statue and closed his eyes. His head hurt. 

‘You look like shit.’ 

Davey started, and looked up. Albert was standing above him, eyebrows raised, arms crossed. 

‘I’m kiddin’, David.’ He continued, when Davey didn’t respond. ‘But I gotta say, you ain’t lookin’ great.’ 

‘You don’t look so good either, Albert.’ Davey replied. Albert was sporting a painful looking black eye. 

‘This?’ Albert pointed to his eye. ‘Ain’t nothin’. I’ve had worse.’ He sat down across from Davey, crossing his legs. 

‘It looks pretty bad.’ Davey leaned closer, examining the cuts and bruises on the side of Albert’s face. ‘Find me later, let me clean it up for you.’ 

‘You’ve done enough for us, David.’ Albert waved Davey’s worrying hands away. ‘What you did yesterday, savin’ all those boys...’ he trailed off, smiling a little sadly. ‘Well, it was brave of you.’ 

‘It wasn’t.’ Davey murmured, looking away. ‘Anyone would’ve done it.’

‘Don’t mean we can’t be grateful.’ 

‘Let us thank you, goddammit!’ Racetrack planted himself next to Albert, throwing an arm round his shoulder. ‘David - and I say this in the nicest possible way - you look like shit.’ 

‘Hey!’ Davey protested. ‘I said already, I’m fine. This is nothing.’ He gestured to his beat-up face. 

‘That ain’t what I mean.’ Race grimaced. ‘I mean you look -‘ he paused, searching for the words. 

‘You look like you need him.’ Albert finished. His voice was quiet, gentle, as though he was merely suggesting.

Davey opened his mouth to answer, but just sighed. Race raised his eyebrows - not cruelly, but enough to make Albert jab him in the ribs with a sharp elbow. 

‘He left us.’ Davey shrugged. ‘He should be here, and he’s not. I’m disappointed, but I don’t need him. I don’t miss him.’

‘That is the biggest load of -‘ Race started. 

‘We’s all annoyed.’ Albert interrupted, giving Race a pointed look. ‘He was wrong to leave us. But what you -‘ he broke off again, and took a breath, considering his next words. ‘I know he misses you. Wherever he is.’ 

Davey didn’t respond to that, but looked down at his hands, almost embarrassed. The three were silent for a moment. Davey felt his breath catch painfully in his throat, and tears threaten to spill over his lids. 

‘Hey, David, I’m sorry,’ Albert said, ‘I didn’t mean to upset you -‘

‘You didn’t. I’m - it’s fine. I don’t care.’ Davey ignored the wobble in his voice, and wiped a hand roughly across his eyes, brushing away tears. 

‘It’s gonna be okay.’ Race reached out a comforting hand to place on Davey’s shoulder, but he shrunk away from his touch, and moved swiftly on to other matters. 

‘What do we do about Crutchie?’ He asked. Albert looked at him, a frown creasing his forehead, evidently not happy that Davey has changed changed the subject so quickly. Race had no such qualms. 

‘Ain’t nothin’ to do, really.’ Race shrugged. ‘We’s all been in there, one point or another. You gotta stick it out. We’ll be waitin’ for him when it’s over.’ 

‘What, you’re just gonna leave him? They’ll - he’ll - it’ll be hell for him in there!’ Davey protested. ‘Surely it’s different - worse, for him?’ 

‘What Race means,’ Albert said hastily, ‘is that we can’t get him out. And if we tries, all that happens is more of us end up in there. Better we stay here so he’s got somethin’ to come back to.’ 

‘I can’t believe there’s nothing that -‘ Davey was interrupted by a shout, and a paper hitting him square in the chest. 

‘Look at this! We’s front page news!’ Romeo grinned at the three of them. Race snatched another paper, and his mouth fell open at the sight of the front page. Davey unfolded the paper that had been thrown at him, and gaped at the front page. There, grinning back at him - above the goddamn fold - was a photograph of the newsies, under a block headline:

Newsies Stop the World!

The bunch of kids on the page looked nothing like - well, a bunch of kids. They were proud, defiant, strong as any battalion and a thousand times braver. That didn’t look like him, either, standing front and centre, chin tilted up, half-smiling, daring the camera. He didn’t think he could ever look like that, look commanding, or confident. His hand was holding tightly to Les’s shoulder - Les, bless his heart, looked goofy and pleased as ever. 

Davey’s gut twisted at the sight of Jack next to him, arm round Davey’s shoulders. Jack was smiling in the photo, straight at the camera, eyes crinkled. If he squeezed his eyes shut, Davey could still feel Jack’s arm around him. It hadn’t been slung round his shoulders, carefree and joyful - but rather holding Davey close, at once protective and afraid. Almost invisible in the photo, Davey’s own arm had found its way round Jack’s waist. The only clue was the tiny smudge of ink at Jack’s side that Davey knew was his hand, holding Jack tight. Holding each other steadfast. 

‘Pretty impressive, huh?’ Katherine’s voice jolted Davey from his thoughts. He scrambled to his feet to hug her. 

‘It’s amazing - you’re amazing!’ He smiled at her, disbelievingly. 

‘It’s all thanks to you guys. I can’t - I never believed something I wrote would be on the front goddamn page!’ Katherine was beaming, fit to burst with an infectious joy and pride. 

Across the square, copies of the paper were being handed around, to exclamations if excitement and pride. Every few moments, a newsie would rush past and thank Katherine, doff their cap, or kiss her cheek - or, in Romeo’s case, get on one knee and kiss her hand. Katherine was flushed red, unable to stop smiling. 

‘Just you wait ‘til I show Les this. He’ll never stop talking about it.’ Davey marvelled at the paper. ‘This... Katherine, you’re incredible. It’s crazy, but maybe we got a shot after all.’

‘Really?’ She asked. ‘You think we can - after what happened yesterday?’

‘I do.’ Davey nodded. ‘If we can make the front page...’

‘But won’t they just -‘ Katherine frowned, uncertain. ‘It’s not that I don’t think you can, ‘cause I know you can, but surely they’re onto you now, they know you mean business, I mean why else would they have sent so many cops after you, and how on earth -‘

‘Hang on.’ Davey interrupted her babbling. Katherine fell quiet, looking sheepish. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean - you just made me realise -‘ Davey stopped, thinking. Katherine stared expectantly. 

‘Why did they send so many cops after us?’ Davey said slowly. ‘We’re just a bunch of kids. They wouldn’t waste all that on us unless - unless they were -‘

‘Unless they were scared you were gonna win.’ Katherine finished. They stared at each other, blinking as both their brains ticked like clockwork. 

‘We’re gonna win.’ Davey murmured, breathless. 

‘We’re gonna win!’ Katherine repeated, excitedly. ‘We have to tell Jack!’ Davey’s face fell at this. 

‘Oh.’ He breathed. ‘You don’t -‘

‘I don’t what?’ Katherine asked. ‘David, what happened?’ 

‘Jack’s gone.’ Davey replied. ‘He ran the minute he saw the cops. And I don’t - I don’t think he’s coming back, Katherine.’

‘No way. No damn way he’s getting away with this.’ Katherine scowled, furious. 

‘It’s hopeless.’ Davey shrugged. ‘He doesn’t believe in it any more.’ 

‘Where is he?’ Katherine pressed. Davey sighed. ‘David, we need him.’ 

‘He doesn’t seem to think so.’ Davey said bitterly. ‘Besides, it’s numbers we need, not one lousy -‘

‘You need him.’ Katherine folded her arms at him. Davey looked away. Shit. 

‘Fine. But when I’m right, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> davey and kath are BEST FRIENDS becos i will not stand for jealousy in this house  
> they are gay lesbian solidarity and that’s final  
> ALSO is anyone watching ben fank’s sunday instagram lives? they’re my absolute favourite thing he is just so sweet and if ur not watching them then what the hell are u doing!!!


	10. watch what happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Is that a real place?’ Davey asked, indicating the backdrop - if for nothing else, merely to end the eons of silence between them. ‘Is that Santa Fe?’ His voice must have been more disdainful than he intended, because Jack’s jaw tensed, and he narrowed his eyes at Davey. Davey knew he might as well have told Jack he was a coward again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is 3k words i have NEVER written something this long  
> i would also like to point u to my newsbians fic written in the same canon rewrite style as this fic! it’s called more than the world can contain and i’m really happy with it but it’s so damn hard to get hits/kudos on f/f fic so go read it! you’ll love it!

Jack spent the day painting, from the moment enough light to see by trickled in through the windows. His eyes ached from concentrating, his arm stiff from holding a paintbrush for hours on end. Spread out across the canvas were the Taos Mountains, a grayscale landscape painted in misty silvers and dusky blues. 

‘It’s lovely, Jack, honey.’ Medda walked in, wearing a soft pink dressing robe. She stood back, admiring the lanscape. 

‘Thanks for lettin’ me do it, Miss Medda.’ Jack smiled, but avoided her eyes. Medda squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. She fished in her pocket, and pulled out a small brown envelope, labelled in loopy cursive. 

‘Here’s everything I owe you for the first backdrop, plus this one, and even a little something extra just account’a because I’m gonna miss you so.’ She said, handing him the envelope with a sad smile. 

‘Miss Medda.’ Jack shook his head, and tried to hand the envelope back, but she pushed his hands away. 

‘Jack.’ She said, firmly refusing. 

‘You’re a gem.’ He pocketed the envelope, unable to suppress the spark of hope and guilt that was brought by the feeling of it weighing his trouser pocket down. 

‘Just tell me you’re going somewhere and not running away.’ Medda said, warningly. Jack wished he’d never told her what he’d be spending the money on. 

‘Does it matter?’ Jack replied, turning away from her. He hated the way she saw straight through him, knowing and understanding his deepest thoughts. 

‘When you go somewhere and it turns out not to be the right place, you can always go somewhere else.’ Medda spoke slowly, thoughtfully. ‘But if you’re running away, nowhere’s ever the right place.’ With that, she patted his arm gently, and left, with the same lofty grace she always carried herself. Jack rubbed his sore eyes, and swallowed down the sob that threatened to rise in his throat. 

Davey, Katherine, and Les made their way through the maze of backstage passages, searching for Jack. Davey’s chest felt hollow, overcome with a feeling of dread at the prospect of seeing Jack again. 

‘You’re sure he’s here?’ Katherine asked. 

‘He is. He has to be.’ Davey replied, telling himself as much as he was telling Katherine. 

‘David? Is that you?’ Medda asked, walking towards them out of the shadows.

‘Miss Medda!’ Davey exclaimed, relieved. At the sight of him, Medda hurried forwards, arms outstretched, and hugged him tightly. Davey’s chest constricted as he hugged her back. When she pulled back, she took Davey’s face in her hands and ran her thumb gently over his bruised eye. 

‘You put some ointment on that, you hear me?’ She said gently, and Davey nodded. ‘It ain’t gonna heal itself. There’s some in my dressing room that you can use.’ 

‘I will. Thank you, Miss Medda.’ Davey smiled weakly back at her. 

‘You make sure he does, okay?’ Medda beamed down at Les, who nodded enthusiastically. She bent down to his level. 

‘How are you, honey? Holdin’ up?’ 

‘I’m on strike, Miss Medda!’ Les told her excitedly. 

‘So I hear!’ She chuckled softly, then stood back up to speak to Katherine. ‘I ain’t met you before.’

‘I’m Katherine Plumber.’ Katherine hesitated, unsure of how to greet her, then held out a hand for Medda to shake. Medda simply laughed, and hugged her without hesitation. 

‘I read your article. Very impressive, if I may say so. And you wrote a lovely review of my show in the Sun.’ Katherine blushed. 

‘It was a wonderful show.’ She replied. 

‘Well, thank you. For everything you’re doin’ for these boys.’ She lowered her voice. ‘God knows, someone’s gotta keep everything in order.’ Katherine laughed at that, and Medda gave her shoulder a motherly squeeze. She turned back to Davey. 

‘He’s through there.’ She motioned to where she had just come from. ‘He - you really must talk to him. And don’t let him just run away again.’ The two looked at each other, and Davey saw the same fearful look in her eyes reflected from his own, the same tears ready to fall at a moment’s notice. 

‘I’ll try, Medda.’ His voice came out as barely a whisper. She nodded, and hugged him one last time.

‘Goodnight, David. Katherine, Les.’ With that, Medda disappeared back into the shadows of the theatre, and Davey summoned all the strength in him to lead the other two towards Jack. 

Their route brought them out to the side of the stage, to the same place that Davey and Jack had watched Medda’s show from a thousand years ago. Davey stopped short at the sight of Jack, fixed to the spot. Jack looked different - exhausted, from the dark rings beneath his eyes, and the deep frown lines creasing his forehead. Katherine and Les both marched forward, leaving Davey behind, still frozen. 

‘How about letting a friend know you’re alive?’ Katherine called to him, voice icy but nevertheless pleased to see him. 

‘What’re you doin’ here?’ Jack’s eyes flickered from Katherine to Davey in the shadows. 

‘I could ask you the same thing.’ Katherine folded her arms, mouth set in a stern line. 

‘Jack!’ Les hurtled towards him, and threw his arms around him. 

‘Hey, kid.’ Jack smiled for Les’ sake. ‘You doin’ okay?’ 

Katherine did not wait for Les to answer.

‘Why did you come here?’ She asked, accusingly. 

‘Ever think maybe I didn’t wanna he found?’ Jack mumbled. His eyes flicked towards Davey again. ‘You gonna vide there all night?’ Davey rolled his eyes at that, but stepped out of the shadows. 

Jack stared at him, and Davey stared straight back, drinking in the sight of him. Loathe as he was to admit it, Davey had missed him like nothing else. Jack had taken off his blue shirt, and was left in a paint-stained striped undershirt. There were streaks of grey and blue down his arms - a rainbow of muscle that left Davey’s mouth dry. 

‘Is that a real place?’ Davey asked, indicating the backdrop - if for nothing else, merely to end the eons of silence between them. ‘Is that Santa Fe?’ His voice must have been more disdainful than he intended, because Jack’s jaw tensed, and he narrowed his eyes at Davey. Davey knew he might as well have told Jack he was a coward again. 

‘Hey, Jack - you see the pape?’ Les asked, ever oblivious. He pulled an newspaper out of his bag, and thrust it at Jack. ‘That’s us. Front page, above the fold.’ Jack took the paper and studied it with a frown. 

‘Good for you.’ He said, and handed the paper back. 

‘Everyone wants to meet the famous Jack Kelly.’ Katherine tried. ‘You’re the face and the name of the strike.’ Jack scoffed, and turned away. 

‘Spot Conlon sent a kid over from Brooklyn to say we can count on them next time.’ Davey said, trying with all his might to keep his tone even. 

‘We got stomped into the ground.’ Jack said with a shrug, refusing to look at Davey. 

‘They got us this time. I’ll grant you that.’ Katherine conceded. ‘But we took round one. And with the press like this our fight is far from over.’ Katherine took a step closer to Jack, to which he shrank back, shaking his head. 

‘Every Newsie who could walk showed up this morning to sell papes like the strike never happened.’ Jack couldn’t look at any of them, couldn’t face it. Davey felt anger bubble in him again - he couldn’t stay neutral. 

‘And I was there with them. If I don’t sell papes, my folks don’t eat.’ Davey spat back, venomous and fierce. 

‘Save your breath.’ Jack sneered back. ‘I get it. It’s hopeless.’ Katherine stepped in - literally, between the two, who had been inching closer, murderous glares on both their faces. 

‘David, that’s not why we’re here.’ She cautioned him, and turned to Jack. ‘It is not hopeless. You of all people know that, Jack!’ 

Katherine looked back to Davey, raising an apprehensive eyebrow. Davey nodded at her, a silent apology. 

‘I thought it was hopeless too.’ Davey said quietly, looking at the floor. But then I saw this look on Wiesel’s face. He was actually nervous. And I realized this isn’t over.’ 

‘We got them worried. Really worried. And I walked away. Lots of other kids did, too. And that is what you call a beginning.’ 

‘Listen, Katherine, it’s quite a story you wrote there.’ Jack started. ‘But it’s dangerous. People are gettin’ hurt.’ Jack gestured to Davey’s injuries. Davey raised a self-conscious hand to his battered face, covering his wounds from view. 

‘Don’t you condescend me, Jack Kelly.’ Katherine shot back at him. ‘And you look pretty terrible yourself.’ Jack began to protest, but she interrupted. ‘I don’t mean injured. You look like you’re tired. And lost.’

‘What is that painting supposed to be?’ Les piped up. Davey could’ve throttled him. Just when they were getting somewhere with Jack -

‘It’s Santa Fe.’ Jack seized the opportunity to change the subject, and rushed to Les’ side to show him the painting in detail. As he explained the theory of the colours and the layout and the light, Katherine sidled over to Davey. 

‘He still won’t give up on this dumb ‘go west, young man’ routine?’ Katherine asked. 

‘I think he’s serious about it, Katherine.’ Davey replied, not taking his eyes off Jack for a moment. 

‘Jack.’ Katherine raised her voice to him. ‘We need to talk to you. Properly. We think we can win the strike.’

‘Ain’t reporters supposed to be non-partisan?’ Jack shot back, not even nothing to turn and look at her. 

‘Ask a reporter.’ Katherine said, bitterly. ‘Pulitzer’s had me blacklisted from every news desk in town -‘

‘Can we table the palaver and get back to business?’ Les rolled his eyes and asked Jack, ‘Will Medda let us have the theatre?’ Jack looked to the other two, confused. 

‘The hell you need the theatre for?’ He frowned. 

‘It’s what we’ve been trying to tell you.’ Davey sighed, trying not to raise his voice in frustration. ‘We want to hold a rally – a citywide meeting where every newsie gets a say and a vote. And we do it after working hours so no one loses a day’s pay. What do you think?’ Jack stared at him incredulously. 

‘I think you’re crazy.’ Jack said, with a bitter laugh. 

‘The guy who paints places he’s never seen is calling us crazy?’ Katherine replied. Davey only just kept from his mouth falling open in awe at Katherine’s daring. Jack’s jaw clenched, eyes narrowing in anger. 

‘Want to see a place I seen? How about this?’ Jack spat, and wheeled the backdrop around, to reveal a painting in stark black and white, of the scene the day before in the square. Davey and Katherine stared, breathless at the memory of the day before, captured, so life-like, in oil paint. 

‘Newsie Square, thanks to my big mouth, filled to overflowing with failure.’ Jack gestured to the painting as he spoke. ‘Kids hurt, others arrested -‘ 

‘Hey, no one died.’ Davey interrupted, stepping forwards. 

’Oh, is that what we’re aiming for now? Go on and call me a quitter, call me a coward. No way I’m puttin’ them kids back in danger.’ Jack looked Davey up and down in nothing less than disgust. Davey’s heart stuttered in his chest, aching with disappointment. 

‘They’re gonna put themselves back in danger whether you’re there or not.’ Davey replied, matter-of-fact. ‘The difference is whether you’re gonna be there to lead them.’ 

‘We’re doing something that has never been done before. It’s going to be dangerous.’ Katherine added, bringing a hand up to rest on Davey’s shoulder. Davey let out a deep breath, comforted. 

‘Specs brung me a note from Crutchie at the Refuge.’ Jack continued as though Davey and Katherine hadn’t spoken at all. ‘I tried to see him. Climbed down the fire escape. But they busted him up so bad he couldn’t even come to the window. What if he don’t make it? You willing to shoulder that for a tenth of a penny a pape?’ Davey closed his eyes briefly, sick to the stomach that his worst fears about Crutchie were true. 

‘It’s not about pennies.’ Davey said firmly. ‘You said it yourself: my family wouldn’t be in the mess we’re in now if my father had a union. This is a fight we have to win.’

‘If I wanted a sermon, I’d show up for church.’ Jack sneered. 

‘Tell me how quitting does Crutchie does any good?’ Katherine asked him. Jack opened his mouth to answer, but simply closed it again. ‘Exactly.’ She said smugly. ‘They might’ve won, but this was only a battle. We’ve got a whole war left to fight.’ 

‘A war we’re already winning.’ Davey finished. Jack spluttered incredulously. Davey and Katherine exchanged a smug look. Maybe this wasn’t so pointless after all. 

‘Why would Pulitzer send for an entire army of goons and cops if he wasn’t afraid - afraid that we were a real threat?’ Davey moved closer to Jack. ‘Pulitzer’s fighting this like we’re not just a bunch of kids, and he’s right. We’re not.’ 

‘You know -‘ Jack cut himself off, and sighed, rubbing his temples like he was trying to push away a headache. ‘You know, you might be right.’

‘Thank you!’ Katherine exclaimed. ‘Took you damn long enough.’

‘He knows we’re winning, Jackie.’ Davey pressed on, tentatively placing a hand on Jack’s arm. To his relief, Jack didn’t shake it off, or push him away, but rather just looked down and stared at where Davey’s fingers rested lightly on his forearm. 

‘He knows we’re winning.’ Jack murmured, more to himself than anything else. 

‘Just you wait, Jack. We’ve got a plan, and yes, we’re terrified, but if we get those boys to believe in themselves... just watch what happens!’ Katherine broke out into a smile. 

‘Are you in?’ Davey asked. 

‘God, I’m gonna live to regret this.’ Jack shook his head disbelievingly. ‘Yeah, I’m in.’ Les gave a cheer, and wrapped his arms around Jack. 

‘We’re gonna win!’ Les grinned. Jack hugged him back with one arm, looking dazed. 

‘What do we do now, Davey?’ Katherine asked. Davey was a little taken aback at her faith in his leadership. 

‘Uh - we start planning, I guess.’ He frowned. ‘It’s too late to get anywhere now, though. Katherine, meet us in the square tomorrow morning?’ 

‘Sure thing, boss.’ Katherine gave a mock salute. 

‘Jack, can you ask Medda about us using the theatre? For the rally?’ 

‘I’ll do it first thing tomorrow.’ Jack nodded. 

‘And tonight I’ll come to the lodging house, explain to the boys what’s going on. That way we can send out messengers early tomorrow. Get the word out.’ Davey looked at Jack, almost asking his permission. 

‘Okay, Davey. Let me pack my things, and we’ll go.’ He smiled - albeit, a little forcedly. 

‘Can I come to the lodging house?’ Piped up Les. 

‘I’m sorry, Les, but you gotta get home. It’s late.’ Davey crouched down to his level, and gave him a quick hug. 

‘I can run him home on my way back?’ Katherine offered. 

‘Would you really?’ Davey asked. ‘Katherine, you’re wonderful.’ Les gave Jack a quick hug goodbye, and headed for the door. 

‘Bet you a pape I can get there before you!’ He called over his shoulder. 

‘Hey, that’s not fair!’ Katherine yelled, hitching up her skirt. ‘No head starts!’ She turned quickly to the two boys. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’ She grinned, and ran after Les. 

It dawned very quickly on Davey that this plan would involve him and Jack being alone for rather longer than he would strictly like. Davey sat down, cross-legged, on the floor, and leant back against the wall. He watched as Jack slowly packed his paints and brushes up, cleaning them and wrapping them gently in cloth.

‘I’m sorry, Davey.’ Jack said, not looking up from his work. ‘I know I was wrong, and I ain’t gonna make any excuses cause - cause -‘ he broke off, voice uneven. ‘-cause there’s no excuse good enough.’ Davey stayed silent for a moment, letting the weight of Jack’s words hang in the air. 

‘I’m sorry too.’ This did make Jack look up, surprised. ‘I was too harsh on you, Jackie.’ Davey twisted the fabric of his shirt between his fingers. 

‘It’s okay.’ Jack shrugged. ‘I did kinda deserve it.’

‘You didn’t.’ Davey said firmly. Jack just looked down at his hands. 

‘I never got the chance -‘ Jack, unsteady, stumbled over his words again, shaking ever so slightly. ‘I never got the chance to say thank you. For what you did. For savin’ all of those kids.’ 

‘It was what anyone would’ve done.’ Davey replied. 

‘Ain’t what I did, though.’ Jack laughed awkwardly. Davey did not. ‘I mean it though, Davey. They’s - they’s family, to me. And you saved ‘em.’ Davey stayed silent, watching as Jack cleaned the last few specks of paint from his skin. When he was all packed up, he set his bag of painting things on the floor, and sat, cross-legged, next to Davey, leaning his head back against the wall. 

‘You’re not a coward.’ Davey said, ever so quietly, almost under his breath. 

‘I am.’ Jack laughed again, hollow. ‘You were right about that.’ 

‘You’re not, I mean it.’ Davey continued. ‘I said - what I said last night wasn’t true. I was angry.’ 

‘Yeah, me too.’ Jack sighed. ‘I missed you, you know.’ 

‘We missed you too, Jackie. The boys were goin’ crazy without you.’ Davey smiled at the thought of them, running riot without Jack’s authority. 

‘I don’t mean -‘ Jack turned his head to look at Davey, and found him much closer than he had anticipated. ‘I mean you, Davey. I missed you. In particular.’ 

‘Oh.’ Davey breathed. It felt like all the air has been punched out of his lungs, leaving him wheezing and gasping for breath. He turned to face Jack. ‘I missed you, too.’ He said, finally. Davey willed himself to hold Jack’s gaze, to keep staring intently at his dark eyes, which stared back with such intensity. Jack’s gaze - for the tiniest of split seconds - flickered down to Davey’s mouth. Out of instinct, Davey raised a hand to his lips. 

When he realised he had, however, he quickly dropped it and turned away from Jack. Their little fingers were millimetres away from each other, and Davey stared at the little flecks of yellow paint dotting his hands that Jack hadn’t quite managed to scrub off. Davey could feel his heart rate accelerating, skyrocketing out of control - 

Jack took Davey’s hand. Without so much as a look, he threaded their fingers together and held it tightly. Davey thought he might explode - as if their joined hands were the fuse to a bomb that Jack had just lit. 

‘I’m glad you came.’ Jack murmured, hardly moving his lips. Davey squeezed his hand, and leant, ever so slightly, into Jack’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’d like to formally apologise i am a LESBIAN and i didn’t realise how damn hard it would be to describe men being attractive?? i don’t understand what makes men attractive!!! i tried my best i am sorry  
> as always sending love to you all and hope you’re safe and well and happy as you can be right now xxx


	11. scarcely can speak for my thinking (interlude)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack picked up his things, hands a little shaky. Having Davey so close, so forgiving, felt unreal, like a hazy dream. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he jolted awake to find Davey gone, and still angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hello how are you? this chapter is a bit of a non-chapter but anyway. here is a chapter jack being in love and annoyed about it

‘It’s getting dark.’ Davey said, more of an observation than a suggestion. Jack tore his gaze from Davey’s face to look out of the window, at the rapidly setting sun. 

‘We should get goin’, you’re right.’ Jack said reluctantly, and stood up. He offered a hand to Davey, who took it without hesitating and pulled himself up with a murmured ‘thanks’. Jack picked up his things, hands a little shaky. Having Davey so close, so forgiving, felt unreal, like a hazy dream. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he jolted awake to find Davey gone, and still angry. 

In the soft light of the theatre, Davey’s face was mostly in shadow, his expression hidden. Jack felt his heart stutter, and blinked heavily, enraptured by Davey. Jack had never considered a boy to be pretty before - not the way Davey was. Boys, in Jack’s mind, were handsome, all angles, broad and tall and heavy-set. Strong, and steady, with furrowed brows and calloused hands, work-roughened. 

Davey was - well, he wasn’t exactly the opposite, but more a side-step from that, from what Jack had always thought boys were. Davey was soft, swooping curves and gentle features. He was skinny - or lanky, rather long limbs and narrow shoulders. Light, Jack thought was the right word. Light, almost delicate. Ethereal, he remembered, had been the word that stuck with him that night at the theatre, the word he had spent hours trying to recreate with charcoal and paper. Davey was ethereal, his grey-blue eyes expressive and otherworldly, shiny and bright when he was enthusiastic, stormy when he was angry. His lashes were so long Jack thought they must surely brush against his cheeks when he blinked. 

‘You gonna stand there and stare all night?’ 

Jack blinked. He tore his eyes away, blushing furiously, with an awkward laugh. 

‘Wasn’t starin’.’ He mumbled. ‘Just daydreamin’.’

‘Sure thing.’ Davey smiled. ‘You good to go?’

‘All ready.’ Jack replied, waving his bundle of paintbrushes. ‘We’ll just drop by Medda’s dressing room, get the key to lock up and some ointment for your face.’

Davey opened his mouth and closed it again, like a dumbfounded goldfish, and followed Jack out. As promised, Jack handed Davey his things with a quick ‘hold these for me, would you?’ and went into Medda’s dressing room. He emerged holding a small tub, and pocketing what Davey assumed was the key. 

‘C’mere.’ Jack beckoned him over. ‘Under the light, so’s I can see.’ Davey moves under the light, and stood perfectly still as Jack applied ointment. 

Jack gently cupped his chin, pushing his face so that it was titled upwards towards the light. He examined Davey’s face carefully, finding the bruised areas, and the barely-healed wounds to avoid. With the softest of touches, he rubbed salve into the bruises across his cheekbones. Davey hardly dared breathe. 

‘Need it on the ones on your chest?’ Jack asked, almost under his breath. 

‘What?’ Davey blinked, bewildered. ‘Oh. No, they’re - they’re pretty much gone.’ That was a flat out lie - the bruises tracing a path across his ribs were sore and aching, bright purple in the middle and tinged an unsightly green at the edges. But Davey couldn’t imagine a worse fate than to have Jack’s gentle hands anywhere near where they might discover the unruly thundering of his heart. 

‘Whatever you say, Davey.’ Jack gave him a quick smile, and patted the side of his face. ‘All done.’ Jack darted back into the dressing room, and returned empty-handed, taking his things back from Davey. 

Davey raised a hand to his face, where the impression of Jack’s fingers had left a faint trail. He followed Jack through the winding backstage corridors and out through a back door, which Jack locked, placing the key beneath a loose brick. 

‘You really comin’ to the lodging house?’ Jack asked, once they had begun walking. 

‘Yeah. Yeah, I want to speak to everyone. Let them know what we’ve got planned.’

‘Two weeks I’ve been tryn’a get you to come stay, and you’re tellin’ me all this time all I needed to do was organise a rally?’ Jack laughed. Davey laughed with him, giving him a playful shove. 

Once at the lodging house, they were greeted by an avalanche of newsies tumbling down the stairs to greet Jack. Race was the first to reach him, crashing into into him and wrapping his arms around him. 

‘I’m gonna kill you, Jack Kelly!’ Race yelled as he did, half muffled in Jack’s shoulder. Jack laughed, but hugged Race close, and muttered something in his ear. 

‘Hey, David. It’s good to see you.’ Davey turned, to see Albert, who had sought him out in the ruckus of clamouring for Jack. 

‘It’s good to see you too, Albert.’ Davey shook his hand, and let himself be pulled in for a rough hug. 

‘I gotta say, I’m a whole lot happier you’re here than he is.’ Albert jerked his head towards Jack. ‘You bein’ here means there’s somethin’ goin’ on.’ Albert lowered his voice. ‘A plan?’ 

‘Yeah, somethin’ like that.’ Davey allowed himself a small smile. ‘Can I talk to everyone?’ 

‘You wanna go upstairs, you gotta pay.’ Davey turned to see a man, fairly old and wizened, but with a kindly glimmer to his eye, emerge from the back. 

‘David, this is Mr Kloppman. He keeps us safe and warm and outta pocket.’ Albert said, grinning at Kloppman. 

‘Shut up, Al. If you really hates it here, you can get out.’ Kloppman shot back, but with the same grin. 

‘I could never.’ Albert laughed. 

‘You stayin’ the week or just for a night, kid?’ Kloppman asked Davey. 

‘Just a night.’ Davey fished in his pocket and handed over a coin. 

‘Write your name there,’ Kloppman pocketed the coin and pointed to a tattered old book, ‘and welcome to the finest establishment in Manhattan.’ 

Jack let himself be hugged and greeted by newsie after newsie, eventually making his way upstairs, searching for Davey. 

He found him, sitting on a top bunk next to Albert, mid-explanation. Jack hung back, watching him speak with the same fire that he’d missed so much over the last few days. Davey was smiling at the newsies, garnering returned smiles and the occasional laugh. Every so often, someone would ask a question - Davey used a word they didn’t understand, or explained a complicated point too quickly - and, patient and understanding, Davey would explain. Never frustrated, never mean or condescending. 

As Jack watched, he saw that his days hiding at the theatre had cost him. He had missed Davey’s becoming one of them, becoming family. When he had left, he hadn’t seen the way Davey gestured with his hands when talking to people he was comfortable with. He hadn’t seen the way he laughed through his words. He hadn’t seen the way he reached out to Albert, or to Race, or to Specs, when he lost his train of thought, almost as if a brief touch would remind him of what he’d been saying. He hadn’t seen the way he half-hugged the newsies, one arm around their shoulders, in happiness, in celebration, in excitement. 

Davey was different. Jack was too, he supposed, but not like this. It almost pained him to see that Davey had become so happy without him there. It pained him to think that Davey’s entire situation wasn’t permanent. That he had a whole life outside of the papers, the strike, the lodging house, the newsies. 

Which was stupid, he supposed. He had hardly known Davey two weeks. And yeah, maybe he’d gone and gotten stupidly attached to this brilliant, smart, stupidly pretty boy. But that didn’t mean Davey felt the same. It wasn’t like Jack fit in with Davey’s life, especially not now he’d gone and screwed everything up by running away.

Maybe Santa Fe would be different. No Davey, no newsies, no attachments. No brilliant, smart, stupidly pretty boys with stupidly pretty freckles and blue-grey eyes. 

Yeah, that was it. Jack just couldn’t wait until he never had to look at those stupidly pretty blue-grey eyes ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave me a comment! it’s a bit unreal how well this fic is doing hits and comments-wise. im so happy people are enjoying it and i love hearing about it if you do!
> 
> as always, sending you all love xx


	12. the bottom line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack felt tears prick at his eyes. God, he had been so fucking stupid. Davey had been right. He didn’t belong with them, didn’t belong in this mess. If he hadn’t met Jack, he would never have been in danger, never have gotten hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was impossible to write for some reason  
> anyway from here on it gets really good!  
> cannot believe this fic has over a thousand hits like ..... that’s just crazy to me! thank u to every single one of u and especially to those of u who keep coming back. this fic will not be abandoned i promise!

‘Lights out!’ Came the call at ten o’clock, and the newsies set about turning off lamps and settling into bed. Davey shook hands, gave quick hugs, and called ‘goodnight!’ to more people than he could count. 

‘There’s a bed next to me if you want?’ Albert told him, pointing to a bunk in the corner. Davey hesitated, looking around for Jack, and, when he couldn’t find him, decided to push him from his mind. 

‘Sure, Al. That’d be great.’ He replied. 

‘Hey, Davey!’ He knew without turning who it was that was calling him. 

‘Let me say goodnight to Jack. I’ll be back in a minute.’ 

‘Sure thing.’ Albert smiled at him and made his way over to his own bunk. 

Davey turned to see Jack by a ladder leading up to a trapdoor, half-hidden in shadow, head tilted to one side, in invitation. Davey sighed, and let himself be led up the ladder. 

The trapdoor opened out onto the roof, a large, flat plain littered with signs of habitation - a mattress and blanket, a roll of papers, an open biscuit tin full of charcoals. 

‘This your penthouse?’ Davey asked Jack, teasing. ‘Very fancy.’

‘Shut up.’ Jack smiled back, nudging him gently. ‘It ain’t much, but it’s home. And the view’s a sight for sore eyes.’ 

In the near-darkness of dusk, it was hard to see, but still visible was the infinite trail of lights leading off into the horizon, and the black outline of the skyline against the velvety deep blue sky. Davey walked to the very edge, drinking in the view. 

‘Hey, Davey?’ Jack said, a little sheepishly. 

‘Yeah?’ Davey turned, surprised to see Jack so nervous, looking downwards, a blush spreading rapidly across his face. 

‘You wanna sleep up here tonight?’ He asked. 

‘I already told Albert I’d sleep downstairs. There’s a bunk for me and everything.’ Davey replied, apologetically. ‘I appreciate it, though.’

‘Oh. Oh, that’s okay.’ Jack shook his head slightly, like he was trying to shake off the disappointment that was evident in his voice. ‘Some other time.’

‘Yeah.’ Davey said, quietly. They were both silent for a long moment. 

‘You’re still mad at me, ain’t you?’ Jack said, more of a statement than a question. 

‘I - I’m not mad, Jack.’ Davey let out a breath, thinking. ‘It’s just... maybe I haven’t completely forgiven you, either.’ 

‘Oh.’ Jack blinked at Davey. ‘Yeah. That - that makes sense.’ 

‘I didn’t come up here to argue or anything, Jackie.’ Davey said softly. ‘I’m just spending tonight with the others.’ 

‘What did you come up here for?’ Jack asked. Davey was a little taken aback at the abruptness of the question. He hesitated, and stared at Jack. Jack stared straight back, a tiny frown creasing the space between his eyebrows. Davey’s gaze dropped - just for a millisecond - to Jack’s mouth, where his lips were still slightly parted, left over from the vowel of his last word. 

‘Just - just to say goodnight.’ Davey snapped himself back to the present, and away from whatever daydream had been inching its way into the forefront of his mind. 

‘Yeah. Yeah, of course.’ Jack looked almost as though he was doing the same, wrenching himself back into this world and away from his thoughts. ‘Goodnight, Davey. I’m - I’m glad you came. To the theatre.’ 

‘I’m glad I did too.’ Davey reached out a hand and placed it gently on Jack’s upper arm. ‘Goodnight, Jackie.’ 

With that, and a quick smile, Davey made his way back down the ladder and to his own bunk. 

Davey woke with a start to the clanging of the morning bell, and to a flurry of activity around him. 

‘Mornin’ David!’ Albert smiled from above him, where he was already dressed and ready to go, hair sleep-tousled. He offered Davey a hand, which he took, to pull himself up. Davey rubbed his eyes and yawned. 

‘What’s the plan for today?’ Racetrack’s head suddenly appeared, hanging upside down from the bunk above. 

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Davey saw that a small crowd was forming around his bed, many pairs of eyes staring at him expectantly. 

‘We get ready for tonight, I guess.’ Davey smiled a half-smile, still sleepy. He could feel his stomach fill with dread in anticipation for that night’s rally. ‘If anything’s going to plan, word should be halfway ‘round the city by now. But we’ll send out messengers just to be sure.’ 

‘We’ll go where you want us, boss.’ Specs nodded at him. It struck Davey suddenly how small they all were, how young. Race and Albert, he knew, were among the oldest, both just turned sixteen. But the rest of them - these were children standing before him, taking his orders, calling him ‘boss.’ It was daunting and petrifying. He hated himself for it, but he wished Jack was with him. 

‘Okay then.’ Davey said, trying with all his might not to let fear affect his voice. ‘Mush, take Harlem. Jojo, the Bronx. Buttons, can you get to the Bowery before lunch? Fantastic. Tommy Boy, take the East Side, Specs, take Queens. Race and Al - I know it sucks but can you take Brooklyn.’

‘I really gotta see Spot Conlon this early in the mornin’?’ Albert rolled his eyes, but smiled. ‘We got it.’ 

‘Okay. And Jack and I - hang on, where’s Jack?’ Davey frowned, looking around, trying to spot his familiar unruly curls. 

‘He left early.’ Romeo shrugged. ‘Said he was goin’ to see Pulitzer.’ 

‘Pulitzer?’ Davey asked, confused. 

‘Wanted to tell him about the rally.’ Race explained.

‘Figures.’ Davey tried to hide his disappointment, and hoped the others didn’t notice the fear he felt that Jack had simply left them again. ‘Well, I’ll take Katherine and go to midtown. Sound good?’

The newsies responded affirmatively. Davey breathed a sigh of relief. 

‘Alright then. Let’s go get ‘em.’ 

‘He’s right through here.’ Jack nodded, and followed a bespectacled woman along an elaborately furnished corridor and towards a set of carved wooden double doors. The woman pushed the doors open, holding them so that he could pass through. 

‘Mr. Jack Kelly.’ She presented him to the room at large. Several men were seated and standing, circled around Pulitzer, who was behind a huge desk. The room was filled, floor-to-ceiling, with bookcases, the one window letting in very little light, and making the room feel dark and dingy, despite its grandeur. 

‘Afternoon, boys.’ Jack doffed his cap with a winning smile. 

‘And which Jack Kelly is this?’ Pulitzer’s lip curled as he spoke. ‘The charismatic union organizer, or the petty thief and escaped convict?’

‘Which one gives us more in common?’ Jack replied. He could have imagined it, but he thought he heard one or two people cough as if to hide a laugh. 

‘Impudence is in bad taste when crawling for mercy.’ Pulitzer said, maintaining a cool indifference. 

‘Crawlin’? That’s a laugh, I just dropped by with an invite.’ Jack explained. ‘Seems a few hundred of your employees are rallying to discuss recent disagreements. I thought it only fair to invite you to state your case straight to the fellas. So what’d’ya say, Joe? Want I should save you a spot on the bill?’

‘Rally till the cows come home. Not a paper in town will publish a word. And if it’s not in the papers, it never happened.’ Pulitzer looked immensely pleased with himself, although Jack was certain he was putting a huge amount of effort into maintaining his indifferent demeanour. 

‘You may run this city, but there are some of us who can’t be bullied. Even some reporters.’ Jack smirked, tilting his chin up defiantly.

‘Such as that young woman who made you yesterday’s news? Talented girl, don’t you think?’ Pulitzer gave a cold smile. 

‘I’ll tell her you said so.’ Jack frowned slightly, uncertain of which direction Pulitzer was headed in. 

‘No need. She can hear for herself. Can’t you, darling?’ Pulitzers smile spread, and he lifted his hand just an inch in a careless gesture to a high-backed chair, turned away from Jack’s view. 

The person sitting in the chair stood up slowly, and Jack’s heart plummeted. Katherine turned to face him, looking distraught. 

‘I trust you know my daughter, Katherine.’ Pulitzer paused, no doubt for dramatic effect. Jack simply stared at her, dumbfounded. 

‘Yes. My daughter. You are probably asking, why the nom de plume and why doesn’t my daughter work for me? Good questions. I offered Katherine a life of wealth and leisure. Instead she chose to pursue a career.’ Pulitzer sneered. ‘And she was showing real promise, until this recent lapse. But you’re done with all of that now, are you, sweetheart?’

‘Jack, I -‘ Katherine started, but Pulitzer jumped in quickly, interrupting her. 

‘Don’t trouble the boy with your problems, dearest. Mr. Kelly has a plateful of his own. Wouldn’t you say so, Mr. Snyder?’ Pulitzer could hardly hide the glee in his voice. 

Snyder slunk from where he had been hiding in the shadows, a crooked grin plastered across his face. 

Jack felt the panic rising in his chest, looking wildly around for an exit. He backed away quickly towards the door, but was met with an obstacle sooner than anticipated. He turned and saw the Delancey brothers, arms folded, a barricade between him and the door. 

‘Does anyone else feel a noose tightening?’ Pulitzer laughed self-indulgently, and a few others tittered appreciatively. ‘But allow me to offer an alternate scenario: you attend the rally and speak against this hopeless strike, and I’ll see your criminal record expunged and your pockets filled with enough cash to carry you, in a first-class train compartment, from New York to New Mexico and beyond.’

Jack felt all the colour drain from his face. How did he -

‘You did say he wanted to travel west, didn’t you, Katherine?’ At this, Katherine tried to run towards Jack, but a Delancey brother stepped forwards and trapped her with a vice-like grip on her arm. Her eyes were filling with tears, as she wrestled angrily to try and break free. 

‘There ain’t a person in this room who don’t know you stink.’ Jack said to Pulitzer, but with a quick glance to Katherine, so as to be sure she knew he didn’t blame her for anything. 

‘And if they know me, they know I don’t care. Mark my words, boy. Defy me, and I will have you and every one of your friends locked up in The Refuge. I know you’re Mr. Tough Guy, but it’s not right to condemn that little crippled boy to conditions like that.’ 

‘Don’t you talk about Crutchie -‘ Jack started, lunging forward as if to attack Pulitzer. The other Delancey brother grabbed him roughly and held him back. 

‘And what about your other pal?’ Pulitzer rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Davey, isn’t it?’ 

Jack’s entire body went taught at the mention of Davey’s name - of his name for Davey, in Pulitzer’s filthy mouth. 

‘and his baby brother, ripped from their loving family and tossed to the rats?’ Pulitzer continued. ‘Will they ever be able to thank you enough?’

Jack felt tears prick at his eyes. God, he had been so fucking stupid. Davey had been right. He didn’t belong with them, didn’t belong in this mess. If he hadn’t met Jack, he would never have been in danger, never have gotten hurt. 

‘Gentlemen, escort our guest to the cellar so he might reflect in solitude.’ Pulitzer turned away with a vanishing flick of his hand. 

The Delancey’s hauled Jack from the room. Jack was certain he heard Katherine shout his name as he left, followed by running footsteps and the slamming of the huge wooden doors. 

Jack went limp, stopped struggling. He let himself be led down flight after flight of stairs, into a dingy cellar. The one tiny window let in just a sliver of light, making visible dark silhouettes of furniture. 

He was thrown onto a hard metallic surface - a printing press, he realised, briefly, before all he could see was the Delanceys’ looming faces - and then nothing but black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love to you all as always! comments make me unbelievably happy thank u to everyone who’s left one xxx


	13. try to talk, refined for fear (interlude)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Jack’s name began to spread like wildfire, from one newsie to the next, until there were hundreds of voices clamouring for Jack, chanting his name, until it felt like the room was spinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s here! the rally scene! gasp!  
> wrote this super fast just cos i want to get to the rooftop scene   
> enjoy! good things are coming x

Never in a million years had Davey thought he would be here. 

Watching Medda on stage all those nights ago, he never thought the lights would be on him, centre stage, staring out at a crowd of hundreds all cheering for him. 

Perhaps even more unexpected was that he wasn’t alone. Never in a million years had he thought he would have so many people, colleagues, allies, friends, at his side. He was flanked by Finch and Racetrack, along with Albert holding a banner that read ‘Manhattan’ in bold block capitals. And either side of him were small groups of newsies each with a similar banner: Queens, Flushing, the Bronx - and, to his glowing pride, Spot Conlon, leaning on a Brooklyn banner. 

Medda stepped out from the wings to rapturous applause. She waved out at the audience, smiling at the newsies on-stage. As she passed Davey, she stopped to take his hands in hers, beaming with pride. She turned to face the audience, silencing them with a wave of her hand. 

‘Welcome, newsies of New York City.’ She smiled out at them. ‘Welcome to my theatre and to your revolution!’ The newsies cheered and screamed, deafeningly loud in the echoing theatre. Medda beckoned Davey forwards, and he stepped up to centre-stage with shaking legs. 

‘Let’s hear it for Spot Conlon and Brooklyn!’ Davey gave silent thanks that his voice sounded stable and confident. Spot swaggered forwards, grinning, to shake Davey’s hand. Seemingly much more used to the limelight, he turned to the audience with open arms, drinking in the applause. 

‘Newsies united!’ He yelled, to even more cheers. ‘Let’s see what Pulitzer has to say now.’ 

‘Hey! David!’ Albert hissed from behind Davey. ‘Where’s Jack?’ Davey turned to Medda, questioning. 

Davey opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Jack’s name began to spread like wildfire, from one newsie to the next, until there were hundreds of voices clamouring for Jack, chanting his name, until it felt like the room was spinning. 

‘Sorry, kid. No sign of him yet.’ Medda shook her head, frowning, and pulling him back to reality. ‘Looks like you’re doing a solo.’ Davey’s breath caught in his throat, chest tightening unpleasantly. His entire body felt unsteady, as though he was teetering on a tightrope, scrambling for balance. He took a deep breath, and spoke. 

‘Newsies of New York!’ His voice echoed around the theatre, bouncing back at him from every angle. The glare of the lights was blinding, and, though he could not see them, he could feel the pressure of hundreds of pairs of eyes boring into him. ‘Look at what we’ve done! We’ve got Newsies from every pape and every neighborhood here tonight. Tonight you’re making history.’ 

At that, the newsies cheered. Davey found himself smiling, encouraged, newfound confidence bubbling in him.

‘Tonight we declare that we’re just as much a part of the newspaper as any reporter or editor.’ He continued, raising his voice as the cheers grew ever louder, ever stronger. ‘We’re done being treated like kids. From now on they will treat us as equals.’ 

‘You wanna be talked to like an adult?’ A familiar voice called from the back of the theatre. Davey lit up at the sight of Jack storming down the aisle, a familiar stone-cold excited anger in his eyes. ‘Then start actin’ like one. Don’t just run your mouth. Make some sense.’ That was odd. That didn’t sound like - 

Davey pushed all worry to the very back of his mind, and kept a smile plastered to his face. 

‘And here’s Jack!’ He cried, as Jack hauled himself up and onto the stage, to chants of his name from the newsies. Jack moved close to him, opening his mouth as if to speak. Under the bright stage lights, Davey could see fresh bruises scattered across his face, trailing up his arms and under his sleeves, down beneath his collar. Davey frowned ever so slightly, staring at him, questioning. Jack placed a hand on his shoulder, but didn’t speak, and turned to the newsies. His hand stayed where it was, resting on Davey’s shoulder. 

‘All right.’ Jack said, raising a hand to quiet the newsies. ‘Pulitzer raised the price of papes without so much as a word to us. That was a lousy thing to do.’ 

The newsies cheered in response, but Davey couldn’t concentrate on anything but how different Jack seemed. He was distracted, unfocused, almost on edge. 

‘So we got made and let ‘em know we ain’t gonna be pushed around. So we go on strike. Then what happens? Pulitzer lowers the price so’s we’ll go back to work!’ 

The newsies cheered even louder. Jack looked as if the noise pained him. 

‘And a few weeks later he hikes the price back up again, and don’t think he won’t. so what do we do then? And what do we do if he decides to raise his price again after that?’ 

Davey pulled away, letting Jack’s hand drop from his shoulder. Jack snapped his head round to look at him the second he did, worry and fear clouding his eyes. Davey looked round to the other newsies on stage. They all shared his confusion, his worry that Jack really meant what they all feared he did. 

‘Fellas, we gotta be realistic. We don’t work, we don’t get paid. How many days can you go without makin’ money? However long, believe me, Pulitzer can go longer.’ 

The newsies began to jeer, shouting out at Jack. Davey tried to interject, but Jack waved him away. 

But I have spoken to Mr. Pulitzer and he has given me his word: if we disband the union, he will not raise prices again for two years. He will even put it in writing.’ 

The newsies’ shouts grew deafeningly loud, drowning out Jack, who continued to raise his voice, becoming ever more frantic. 

‘I say we take the deal. Go back to work knowin’ that our price is secure. All we need to do is vote “NO” on the strike. Vote “NO”!’

At that, all hell broke loose. The entire theatre was on their feet, screaming and yelling, shaking their fists and spitting angrily towards the stage. Racetrack marched forwards and grabbed Jack roughly by the arm. 

‘What the hell was that?’ Race spat. Jack shrugged him off more violently than was necessary, and headed towards the wings. The newsies on stage were in uproar, and they all converged on Davey. 

‘Did you know about this, Jacobs?’ Spot Conlon asked him. 

‘David, I thought you said he was in?’ Albert frowned, shaking his head disbelievingly. 

‘He’s a traitor!’

‘You were in on this, Jacobs?’ 

Davey pushed his way out of the wall of people surrounding him, their words swimming round his head. He ran, straight after Jack, chasing his dark silhouette through the flies. 

He finally caught up to Jack outside the theatre. Davey stood on the fire escape - the same fire escape he’d stood on and called Jack a coward just a few nights before. 

Down in the street below, half-obscured in shadow, Jack was exchanging what looked like money with a man in a suit, and a hat covering his face. When the deal was done, the man slunk away, leaving Jack alone, slumped dejectedly against the wall. 

‘Jack.’ Davey said, voice almost breaking. 

Jack looked up, half-embarrassed, half-desperate. 

‘Davey -‘ he broke off with a choked sob. 

‘Save it, Jack.’ Davey said bitterly. 

At that very moment, the doors to the theatre burst open and newsies were suddenly everywhere. Davey saw Race, Finch, Spot, and several Brooklyn newsies all converge on Jack, until he was out of sight. 

Davey leant against the fire escape railings, legs weak. 

And suddenly, he knew where he needed to go.


	14. something to believe in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Whoa, whoa, Davey, stop.’ Jack scrambled to reach for Davey, finally, fingers stopping just short of curling round his arm. ‘Don’t - don’t go yet. I wanna ask you -‘ Jack broke off, stopping himself short. If Davey didn’t know better, he would say Jack sounded afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS HERE!!!  
> i basically wrote this entire fic just for this chapter ..... and u bet it was worth it

Jack didn’t stop running until he reached the lodging house. He ran straight past Mr. Kloppman, past the handful of newsies who had made it back to their rooms, and up the ladder to the roof. He pushed open the trapdoor and - 

Oh. 

‘Jesus, Davey, give a guy some warning.’ He said bitterly. 

Davey turned with a start, quickly hiding the papers in his hands. In the dim light of dusk his face was half-shadowed, and difficult to read. Davey couldn’t help but be thankful that Jack couldn’t see the guilt on his face, and the blush rising up his cheeks. 

‘What are you doing here?’ Jack asked. Davey faltered a little at his anger. 

‘I - I needed to see you.’ Embarrassed, he looked down at his hands, and at the papers he was holding. Jack stormed forwards and snatched them from his hands. 

‘And you thought you could just go through my stuff?’ Jack roughly shoved past Davey, to roll the papers back up and stow them away back in their hiding place. He stayed turned away from Davey, leaning against the rooftop railing, hands gripping it until his knuckles whitened. 

‘I’m sorry, Jack, they were rolled up and  
sticking out of there and I just -‘

‘Yeah, well. they’re still mine.’ Jack said, rather stupidly, half-frustrated that he couldn’t come up with a better response, and half-unable to stay angry and Davey for something so petty

With Jack’s back turned, Davey couldn’t quite tell - and he hardly dared to think it - but there was an unmistakeable softening to Jack’s tone. Snatching at the chance, Davey took a step closer to Jack. 

‘That’s the refuge, isn’t it? in the drawings?’  
Jack stayed silent. ‘They sent you there for stealing food and clothes - it was for the boys, wasn’t it?’ Davey saw the tension in his shoulders release, just a fraction. ‘I don’t understand, Jack. If you were willing to go to jail for them then, how can you turn your back on them now?’ 

Jack turned on his heel to face him, an anger Davey didn’t recognise flaring in his eyes. 

‘Don’t you dare - don’t you dare lecture me about turnin’ my back on those kids.’ Jack said quietly, simmering with anger. ‘Don’t act like you know anything about them!’ He raised his voice, edging closer to Davey until he was backed up against the railings. 

‘You’re abandoning them when they need it most, and you know it.’ Davey stared up at Jack, cornered, but defiant. 

‘I was all they damn well had when they needed it most! I kept them alive!’ Jack’s face was inches from Davey’s. ‘I knew it. I knew you came here just so’s you could call me a coward again. So do it.’ Davey felt his heart stutter, like a car back-firing. 

‘Jack, that’s not what I - I didn’t come here for this.’ Davey gestured between the two of them. ‘I didn’t come here to argue with you.’ 

‘Sure as hell seems like you did.’ Jack moved back from him, still simmering with rage. 

God, how do we always end up like this?’ Davey took a side-step, moving away from Jack so that he was no longer cornered against the railings. 

‘What, fightin?’ Jack asked. ‘You tell me. You’re the one who’s always got somethin’ to say.’ 

‘That’s rich comin’ from you!’ Davey shot back. ‘You had plenty to say at the theatre.’

‘Oh, I told you. You’ve come here to lecture me about it.’ Jack scoffed. ‘Well, I ain’t surprised. You just think you know better than me, think you can boss me around.’ 

‘I don’t think that, Jack!’ Davey protested angrily. 

‘You don’t get to boss me around.’ Jack continued, ignoring him. ‘You don’t tell me what I can and can’t do when it comes to those kids.’

‘You know I’m right, Jack.’ Davey knew he was pushing it, knew he was pushing Jack too far. ‘You just hate that I’m not too scared to tell you the truth.’ 

Jack grabbed Davey by the collar at that, shoving him back up against the railings. Davey looked straight back up at him, mouth set firm, unafraid. 

‘If the boys wouldn’t kill me for it, you’d be trying to talk with a fist in your mouth.’ Jack said between gritted teeth, so close that Davey could see every tense of his jaw, feel the heave of his chest with every breath. 

‘And if you hadn’t been beat up already today, you’d be looking at me through one swollen eye,’ Davey spat back. 

‘Oh, don’t let that stop you. Gimme your best shot.’ Jack jutted his chin out, daring him, defiant and angry and -

Davey grabbed Jack’s face with both hands and kissed him. 

He poured all of his anger, all of his raw emotion into it, rough and desperate and almost uncomfortable in its intensity. 

For one terrible eternity of a second, Jack stayed stock still. 

And then, all at once, Jack seemed to burst into life. He kissed back like his life depended on it, his lips bruising, and achingly desperate. His hands wrapped around Davey’s waist, pulling him closer, until the two were joined at every point from mouth to hip, melting into each other - 

Davey stumbled back, blinking hard. He was suddenly unsteady without the support of Jack’s hands on his waist. For a moment, they stood apart, staring at each other. The few metres between them stretched into a small universe, the night air thick and hot and heavy. 

Jack was the first to breach the gap. His movements softer, gentler, a little more considered, he took a step forwards and moved in - whether to kiss Davey, or simply to feel him close again, he wasn’t sure. Davey put a hand to his shoulder, stopping him - not by force, but as though the lightest of his touches was enough to keep Jack away. 

‘Did you -‘ Davey stopped, fumbling for the words. He swallowed. Jack’s eyes flickered down and follow the line of his throat as he did so. ‘Did you cave for the money?’

‘No, Davey, I -‘ Jack moved forwards, achingly desperate to touch Davey again, to hold him, but he stopped himself at the last moment. 

‘He offered you a ticket to Santa Fe, didn’t he?’ Davey took a deep breath, steadying himself, trying not to betray the tremble in his voice. 

‘I - yeah. Yeah, he did.’ Jack sighed in resignation, embarrassed that Davey could see through him so plainly. ‘But I’m going -‘ he broke off, as thought he had caught himself spilling a terrible secret. ‘That’s not why I - why I caved.’ 

‘Why the fuck should I believe that?’ Davey said, quietly and softly, but nonetheless venomous. Davey noted the way Jack flinched ever so slightly when he swore. 

‘I‘m tellin’ the truth. You win a fight when you got the other guy down eatin’ pavement. It’s like Pulitzer said. No matter how many days we strike, he ain’t givin’ up. I don’t know what else we can do.’ Jack twisted his hands together as though he was desperate to keep them from reaching out, worry lines creasing his forehead. 

‘But Katherine does.’ Davey allowed himself the tiniest of smiles.

‘Come on, Dave...’ 

‘Oh, so only you’re allowed to have good ideas?’ Davey teased. 

‘I didn’t say -‘

‘Just hear me out.’ 

Jack sighed, conceding, but the worry lines didn’t leave his forehead. Davey pushed ahead. 

‘She’s got this idea for us to publish one more piece, get more people to strike. it’s like you said, Jackie. For the sake of all the kids in New York.’

‘Okay,’ Jack nodded, ‘okay. I think I get it. One small problem - where are we gonna print it?’ 

‘There must be one printing press in New York that Pulitzer doesn’t own.’ This sparked something in Jack. 

‘I know one that no one would ever think we’d use.’ He began to smile, the creases of worry disappearing from his face. 

‘Then what the hell are we waiting for? Let’s find Katherine, let her explain to you properly!’ Davey started towards the ladder. ‘She’s a genius, I swear, just you wait -‘

‘Whoa, whoa, Davey, stop.’ Jack scrambled to reach for Davey, finally, fingers stopping just short of curling round his arm. ‘Don’t - don’t go yet. I wanna ask you -‘ Jack broke off, stopping himself short. If Davey didn’t know better, he would say Jack sounded afraid. 

Davey slowly moved back towards Jack, a questioning frown on his forehead. 

‘You’re not gonna cave on us again, are you?’ Davey asked quietly, almost afraid to ask. 

‘Hey, that ain’t fair.’ Jack replied, quick to anger. ‘I ain’t -‘

‘You can’t blame me for asking.’ Davey laughed bitterly. ‘Twice in a couple days you’ve run away on us. On - on me.’ Jack looked at the floor, embarrassed. 

‘I’m sorry, Davey.’ 

‘I know, Jack.’ Davey sighed. ‘I shouldn’t have - I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘’S’okay.’ Jack shrugged. ‘I’m all in on this, though. And I mean it. For real, like.’

‘Really?’ Davey looked up at him, daring to be hopeful. 

‘I promise, Davey.’ 

Davey tilted his head, thinking. Then, a small smile on his face, he spat in his hand and held it out to Jack, who laughed. Jack did the same, and they shook. 

‘You convinced now?’ Jack asked. 

‘I’m convinced.’ Davey smiled. ‘Hey, what was it you wanted to ask?’ 

Jack’s face fell, and he looked away, running his fingers nervously through his hair. 

‘I don’t know if -‘ he started. 

‘C’mon, Jackie.’ Davey coaxed him. ‘You know I won’t leave you be ‘til you ask.’ 

Jack let out a nervous laugh at that, still refusing to meet Davey’s eye. 

What’s this about for you?’ Jack asked, all in a hurry. Davey opened his mouth to respond, but Jack pressed on. ‘I don’t mean the article, or the strike, I mean -‘ he waved his hand between the two of them.

Davey’s heart took a nosedive to the very pit of his stomach. His mouth went dry, and his heart began a now-familiar hammering against his chest. 

‘I mean - I mean us.’ Jack continued, emphasising the last word with another wave of his hand between them. ‘Am I kiddin’ myself or are we -‘ He took a deep, shaky breath in. ‘Is there something...?’ 

Davey simply gaped for a long moment. Then, ever so slowly, he reached out a hand to meet Jack’s between them. Their fingertips brushed, not quite interlocking, not quite joining, not yet. 

‘Jackie, of course there is.’ Davey breathed, hardly daring to look at Jack. 

‘Well, don’t just say that like something like this happens every day!’ Jack said, incredulously, sounding unbelievably relieved. 

Davey laughed at that, heart pounding in his chest, his head, his ears. He finally, finally took Jack’s hand in his, pulled their joined hands to his chest. 

Davey had the sudden fear that Jack would feel the frantic, heavy beating of his heart, and then, just as suddenly, realised that he didn’t care. Jack was trembling all over, the only thing steady his hand, interlaced with Davey’s. 

‘Oh, Jackie,’ Davey said. or, at least, he intended to say - it came out scarcely a whisper, any words he wanted to follow disappearing on his lips. 

‘I’m not an idiot, you know,’ Jack said, not quite able to meet Davey’s eyes. ‘I know guys like us don’t wind up together. And I don’t want you promising nothin’ you’re gonna take back later.’

‘Jack, I wouldn’t -‘

‘Would you shut your mouth for a moment and let me tell you I love you?’ Jack cut himself off, looking taken aback that he’d dared to say such a thing. 

Just as shocked, Davey felt a smile begin to spread across his face. He ducked his head, trying to hide his blush. Jack placed a hand beneath his chin and gently tilted his face up, until they were eye-to-eye again. 

‘You’re so damn pretty, Davey Jacobs.’ Jack whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. Ever so tentatively, Jack leaned down and placed their foreheads together. 

‘You’re damn pretty yourself, Jack Kelly.’ He replied. 

Jack took a shaky breath in. 

‘God, Davey.’ He drew back a little. ‘It’s just that -‘ He broke off, eyes darting around again, as though if he searched hard enough, the right words would materialise before him like a script. ‘What with us standin’ here tonight, and you’re lookin’ all...’ Jack gestured to Davey with his free hand, until it finally came to rest on Davey’s face, cradling his cheek ever so gently. ‘... lookin’ so goddamn beautiful, and you really telling me that we could be somethin’...’

Jack stopped again, this time to take a breath, to untangle himself from his words. When he spoke again, it was slower, a little quieter, more considered and yet more afraid. 

‘I’m scared tomorrow’s gonna come and change everything. I just wish - it only there was a way I could grab hold of something to make time stop, just so’s I could keep looking at you.’

‘You snuck up on me, Jack Kelly. I never even saw it coming.’ Davey whispered, and leaned in. 

When their lips met this time, there was none of the anger of before. Their hands still intertwined between their chests, Jack was so close that Davey could feel his heartbeat too, thumping just as loud and fast as his own. Jack’s mouth was warm and comforting against his own, solid and real, and at the same time, an impossible daydream. 

Davey thought, for a brief moment, that he could spend forever like this. Twined together like two vines, every inch of them pressed together, each point of contact burning hot, dragging Davey’s attention from Jack’s mouth, to his arms, to his hands. 

It was Jack who eventually pulled away, to Davey’s dire disappointment. Davey chased his mouth as he did, leaning forwards to try and capture another kiss - which he did, ever so lightly against the corner of Jack’s mouth. Jack smiled at that, breathless. 

‘I love you, Jackie. Since you never let me tell you earlier.’ Davey said, equally breathless. He placed a tentative hand on Jack’s waist, his touch feather-light. 

Jack laughed at that, soft and sweet. 

‘I thought I was inventin’ things,’ Jack said, ‘all those looks you’d been givin’ me and stuff - I figured it was wishful thinking that they actually meant somethin’.’ 

‘You’re telling me we could’ve been doing this for ages?’ Davey shook his head in disbelief. ‘I thought I was the one inventing things!’

‘For someone so smart, you can be real  
stupid sometimes, Davey.’ Jack pressed a quick, affectionate kiss to Davey’s mouth. ‘I’ve been in love with you since the first minute I saw you. Why d’you think I offered to go sellin’ with you?’ 

‘It’s been that long?’ Davey asked, staring up at Jack in what Jack could only describe as awe. 

‘Yeah, yeah, don’t let it get to your head.’ he rolled his eyes, but leant in to quickly kiss Davey again. ‘When... when was it for you?’ he asked - and if Davey didn’t know better, he’d say Jack was nervous. 

‘When you got up to write on that blackboard.’ Davey answered, straight away. ‘And you looked down - straight at me - and you gave me this goddamn smile. Like we had a secret, me and you, like we knew something the rest of the world didn’t. Couldn’t stop thinking about you after that.’ 

‘Took you that long, huh? What did I do wrong those first couple days?’ 

‘You shut your mouth, Jack Kelly.’ Jack raised an eyebrow, hardly able to contain his smirk. Davey leaned in and kissed him, and Jack laughed, smile curving against Davey’s lips. 

Davey pulled back once more, frowning as if unsure whether to go ahead with what he wanted to say. 

‘I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.’ He said, quietly, almost ashamed. ‘It was like - it was as if, those first few days, I was tryin’ to force myself not to like you.’ 

‘You did a good job of foolin’ me, I gotta tell you.’ Jack replied, teasing, but gentle, caring. He reached up and tucked Davey’s hair behind his ear, the softest of gestures - simply an excuse to touch him again. 

‘I just couldn’t help it.’ Davey continued, smiling up at Jack. 

‘I ain’t never fallen for someone until I fell for you. Head over heels, all the romantic crap they say. You’re - you’re different, Davey. You know I ain’t really good with words but you’re just... I couldn’t have not fallen in love with you.’ 

Davey simply kissed him in response, afraid that the catching breath in his throat would turn to tears. 

Jack brought his hands up to where Davey’s were still resting, feather-light, on his waist.

‘I ain’t gonna break, Davey.’ He murmured, hardly breaking the kiss. Davey didn’t need telling twice. Bringing one hand up to curl in Jack’s hair at the nape of his neck, he wrapped the other round the small of his back, pulling him infinitely closer. Jack made a small noise of surprise, and melted into his touch. 

All of a sudden, Jack’s hands were everywhere. Running through his hair, curving round the back of his neck, running down his sides, memorising every inch of him, skimming the hem of his shirt, teasing. Jack trailed his lips down the side of Davey’s jaw, and Davey tilted his head back without even thinking. Jack hummed his approval, as though each had read the other’s mind. Jack’s mouth traced a path down Davey’s neck, and Davey let out a tiny cry of surprise when he began to tease the skin their with his mouth, forming what Davey knew would be a bruise the next morning. 

‘Don’t - oh, shit, Jack - don’t leave it where people can see!’ 

Jack simply laughed against Davey’s skin, and, frustrated, Davey pulled him back up to join their mouths once more, kissing him hard. Davey’s hands fisted in Jack’s shirt, crumpling the material. Jack almost collapsed under Davey’s touch, lips parting as though they had gone slack, as though his entire body had gone weak at the force of Davey’s mouth on his. 

When they pulled apart, after what could have been a few moments or a small infinity, Jack held Davey’s gaze, as though he was trying to decipher some kind of code deep in his eyes. Jack was breathing heavily, raggedly - and Davey found himself swelling with pride that he had done that; he had given the unshakeable Jack Kelly that desperate look in his eyes, those kiss-reddened lips. 

Davey traced Jack’s mouth with his thumb, absent-mindedly outlining his Cupid’s bow. Jack leaned into his touch, until his cheek was resting in Davey’s hand. Jack turned his head to kiss Davey’s palm, soft and sweet. 

‘I always thought,’ Davey murmured, ‘I always thought that I knew what love was. And then you got up on that damn platform, and you wrote on that damn blackboard, and suddenly everything I thought I knew went out the window.’ 

‘You gave me somethin’ to believe in, Davey. You didn’t even know it, but you did.’ Jack ducked his head, almost embarrassed to be admitting such a thing. Davey opened his mouth to respond, but instead simply pressed a searing kiss to Jack’s mouth, pulling him close. Jack’s hands were burning imprints on either side of Davey’s neck, holding him there. 

When he pulled back to look once more, there was a new longing in his eyes, and a new wistfulness in his voice. 

‘God, if things were different.’ Jack said, still smiling, a little more sadly. 

‘Maybe if you weren’t going to Santa Fe.’ Davey replied, hesitant. Jack turned away at that, as though it was too much to confront. ‘Jack, I don’t -‘ Davey caught his arm, turning him back to face him. ‘Even if you - just listen to me, Jackie - even if you are gone tomorrow, that doesn’t change what we have. I’ll always have something to believe in, ‘cause you believed in me.’

‘I’ll always believe in you, Davey Jacobs.’ Jack pressed his lips together, as if to keep words he’d regret from spilling over his lips. Davey lurched towards him - but not for another kiss. He threw his arms around Jack and buried his face in his neck. 

‘I’m sorry we couldn’t -‘ Davey started. 

‘Don’t apologise, Davey.’ Jack whispered, swallowing down the cracks in his voice. Davey held on to him a little tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you thank you thank you to everyone reading this! im so proud of this fic and we’re so close to the end!  
> i’m vv excited to write some new stuff... currently on the list is a florist au so we’ll see where that goes  
> sending love to you all xxxx


	15. once and for all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘You’re so damn beautiful, Jack Kelly.’ Davey said, raising his own hand to Jack’s face, and tucking a curl behind his ear, running his fingers lightly along his jawline. Jack twisted his head to kiss Davey’s fingers, a soft brush of his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please please plEase watch this video!   
> it’s basically everything i want to do with this story but in literally two minutes. amazing. anyway it’s what’s gotten me through all my writers block in this fic so. go watch it!   
> https://youtu.be/-4t3fGp3ul0

Somehow; they ended up sitting down, leant against the wall, intwined with each other, and looking out at the last sliver of sun as it disappeared beneath the horizon. 

Their legs were tangled together, their hands interlocked. Davey’s head rested on Jack’s shoulder, and every so often he would lift his head up to press a soft kiss to Jack’s neck, his jaw, his mouth. 

‘Stay here, Davey. Just for tonight.’ Jack whispered. 

‘You know we can’t.’ Davey replied. ‘We have so much to do tonight.’

‘Can’t it wait?’ Jack pleaded. ‘I wanna be with you, just for tonight.’ 

‘I want to, Jackie. So badly.’ Davey looked up at Jack, who was already staring down at him. The intensity of Jack’s gaze made him flush, and he was grateful for the semi-darkness that his it. Or perhaps, not as well as he had thought, as Jack raised a hand to curl around Davey’s cheek, a thumb brushing over where he knew he was blushing bright pink. 

‘I know we can’t.’ Jack conceded, disappointed. ‘I just... wish.’ 

Davey waited for him to finish, though it quickly became apparent that he did not intend to. 

‘You’re so damn beautiful, Jack Kelly.’ Davey said, raising his own hand to Jack’s face, and tucking a curl behind his ear, running his fingers lightly along his jawline. Jack twisted his head to kiss Davey’s fingers, a soft brush of his lips. 

‘You really think that?’ Jack asked, quietly. Any other time, Davey would have shoved him and told him to stop being such a smart-ass. But there was something in Jack’s tone that told him he was being completely serious. 

‘Don’t act like you don’t know it.’ Davey smiled, teasingly. ‘Half of New York’s linin’ up for the chance to tell the famous Jack Kelly he’s beautiful.’ Jack scoffed at that. 

‘Only one person I wanna hear it from, though.’ He leant down to kiss Davey, a bruising, intense kiss that knocked all the breath out of Davey’s lungs. ‘Besides,’ Jack continued, drawing back, ‘you got your fair share of people makin’ eyes at you, Davey Jacobs.’ 

It was Davey’s turn to scoff, rolling his eyes. 

‘It’s true!’ Jack protested. ‘Ain’t you seen them girls at the theatre? They’s always swoonin’ over you. All I ever hear is ‘ when’s David gonna be back?’ and ‘can you introduce me to your friend with the pretty blue eyes?’. Drives me up the wall.’ Jack laughed. 

‘You’re makin’ things up, Jack.’ Davey responded, leaning in for one more kiss. ‘Or embellishing, at least.’

‘Yeah, yeah. Maybe I added the bit about your eyes.’ Jack admitted. ‘They are damn pretty though.’ 

‘David!’ A voice hissed from across the roof. Jack and Davey sprung apart, Davey’s heart thumping with the shock. 

‘Jesus, Race!’ Jack replied. ‘Nearly gave me a goddamn heart attack!’ Race emerged from the shadows, arms folded. 

‘Shut your mouth, Jack, I’m still pissed off at you.’ Race frowned down at him. Jack opened his mouth, then closed it again. 

‘He’s with us, Race.’ Davey said, hastily, very aware of the brewing tension. Jack still didn’t say anything, avoiding looking at Race. 

‘If you say so.’ Race nodded at Davey. ‘Anyway, we’re ready to go.’ Davey took a deep breath in and looked at Jack. 

‘Okay then. Let’s go.’ 

By the time they reached Pulitzer’s mansion, they must have been nearly a hundred, a long, snaking line of newsies clutching lanterns to light their way. Davey turned and quietened them all, whispering for Race to keep them there. Jack at his side, they approached where Katherine was leant against a wall. 

‘It’s good to see you.’ She said to Davey, embracing him quickly. ‘Glad you could make it.’ She said, curtly, to Jack. 

‘You sure about this?’ Davey asked her. 

‘One hundred percent.’ She replied, firmly. ‘Follow me.’

Katherine lead them through a back door, and down a rickety flight of stairs to the cellar. The same cellar that Jack had been in just a few hours previously. 

Jack raised an instinctive hand to the bruises across his face. Davey reached out to him, brushing his hand gently over his fingers. The motion was quick, fleeting, and accompanied by hardly a glance, Davey’s hand back at his side in a flash. Jack had never felt so comforted. 

‘I’ll get the lights.’ Katherine turned to face the both of them. ‘You -‘ she handed Jack a huge ring of keys ‘- get those windows unlocked.’ Jack whistled in awe. 

‘You got enough keys here for the entire building. You been pickin’ your dad’s pockets?’ Jack teased. Katherine wasn’t interested. 

‘The janitor’s been working here since he was eight year sold and hasn’t had a raise in twenty years. He’s with us one-hundred percent.’ She replied, and turned up the lights. 

With a little light, the room was transformed, a huge, empty space with cobwebs strung up almost decoratively. And, in pride of place, the printing press. Davey pulled off the dust cover to reveal it, gleaming in the dim light. 

‘That should do the job, don’t you think?’ Davey looked up at where Jack was unlocking the windows. Jack was knocked short of breath at his smile; Davey’s warm, kind, smile that he hadn’t seen directed at him in days. 

He finally got the last of the windows unlocked, and newsies began to pour through. Jack moved out of the way, instinctively moving to stand next to Davey, as they watched the newsies set to work. 

‘You think there’s enough of ‘em to keep us covered?’ Jack asked. 

‘We could hold a hoe-down in here and no one would be the wiser.’ Katherine replied, placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder. Jack turned in surprise. 

‘I - good job.’ He said, a little stupidly. ‘Hey, Kath, I’m -‘ 

‘Don’t.’ She cut him off, but not angrily. ‘It’s good to have you back again.’ Jack smiled at her, shaking his head. 

‘Shut up.’ He nudged her shoulder. On the other side of him, Davey gave Katherine a knowing smile. 

Katherine suddenly waved, energetically, and both Davey and Jack turned to see who she was greeting. Two well-dressed boys, no older than Davey and Jack, were standing at the top of the stairs to the cellar, looking both terrified and absolutely awestruck. Katherine rushed over to greet them. 

Taking advantage of the chaos, Davey grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him behind a stack of boxes. Before Jack could protest, Davey had captured his mouth in a kiss, both hands wrapped firmly around his waist. When he pulled away, he did so slowly, Jack’s lower lip caught between his teeth, dragging gently away. Jack let out a low moan as he did so. He felt a little light-headed. Davey’s strength had surprised him, and the feeling of his arms around him, strong and steady, made Jack want to give in to them entirely, and simply melt into Davey’s embrace. 

‘This is somethin’ special, Jack.’ Davey whispered, a grin spreading across his face. ‘I’m - I’m really glad you’re back.’ Davey pressed one more kiss to Jack’s lips, and suddenly was gone, disappeared into the crowd of newsies. 

Jack watched him go, still breathless. Something special, Davey had said. What had he meant? Had he been referring to the strike, to the paper - or to them? Was there even a ‘them’? 

He shook his head, as if that would dissipate his confusion. He was still dizzy, still reeling from having Davey pressed up against him and kissing him, really kissing him. Just like he had been imagining these past few weeks - only a thousand times better. No fantasy of Jack’s could have predicted the way Davey kissed him. 

Davey kissed like he was reading, like he was drinking in every piece of information Jack had to offer, learning it by heart, in order to use it, experiment with it. Back up on the roof, it had hardly taken Davey a minute before he found the spot on Jack’s jaw that made him turn to molten wax in his hands. Barely three minutes had passed before Davey had realised if he kissed Jack in just the right way, held him steady and firm, his knees would buckle and he would let out a sigh. Though horrifically embarrassing, in Jack’s opinion, Davey would revel in that sigh, smile against his mouth, and kiss him even harder. 

‘Screw your head back on, Kelly.’ 

Jack started, and turned to see Race standing there, yet again. 

‘They’s startin’ to print.’ Race continued. ‘Thought you might wanna see it.’ He turned on his heel and left. Jack sighed. He could tell Race was beginning to forgive him, not quite so angry any more. 

He stepped out from behind the boxes, and headed back over to the printing press, where Davey and Katherine were standing with the two well-dressed boys. Davey was deep in an excited, hushed conversation with them. All four turned to face him as he approached. 

‘Jack, this is Darcy.’ Katherine introduced him to the first boy, who extended a hand. Jack shook it enthusiastically. ‘He knows just about everything there is to know about printing.’

‘You work for one of the papes?’ Jack asked. 

‘My father owns the Trib.’ Darcy explained, a little sheepishly. 

‘Whoa! How the hell did we get you on our team?’ Jack exclaimed. Darcy smiled at that, still nervous. 

‘And this is Bill. He’ll be typesetting the article for us.’ Katherine introduced the other boy.

‘Bill? So I suppose you’re the son of William Randolph Hearst?’ Jack joked. 

‘And proud to be part of your revolution!’ Bill shook his hand with none of the fear or embarrassment that Darcy had.

‘Ain’t that somethin’?’ Jack said, staring back at him in shock. 

‘Shall we get to work?’ Katherine asked, looking, again, to Davey for guidance. 

‘All right.’ Davey nodded at her. The newsies gathered around almost instinctively, an eerie hush falling over them. ‘Here’s how it’ll work: as we print the papes, Race, you’ll let the fellas in and they’ll spread them to every workin’ kid in New York.’ 

‘After that...?’ Race whispered back. 

‘After that it’s up to them.’ Davey replied, mouth set in a firm line. ‘There’s change comin’, just you wait.’ 

The newsies all nodded in agreement, in place of their usual rallying cheer. Davey turned to Jack. They looked at each other, for just a few seconds, an entire conversation passing between them. Jack threw his arm around Davey’s shoulder, and squeezed it comfortingly. 

‘You heard him.’ Jack grinned at the newsies, though his voice was shaky. ‘Once and for all!’ He raised a fist in the air. 

A hundred fists punched the air, a silent solidarity. The room felt charged, electric excitement crackling in the silence. 

‘The Newsies Banner is officially going to print.’ Darcy held up their first prototype for the entire crowd to see. 

Jack took it from him, scanning the page. Katherine and Davey’s words, his own drawings - their own, real-life paper. 

He looked up from it, at the newsies. 

‘Let’s get to work.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ps i love u all! and i love writing this fic! and i love this mf fandom! ur all amazing!


	16. finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey stepped forwards too, placing a hand on the back of Jack’s chair, mere centimetres from where Jack’s own hands were resting behind his head. He reached out and brushed the very edge of Jack’s hand with a fingertip, a gentle reassurance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the finale! or is it....? (spoiler: it’s not)  
> bit of a dull chapter to wrap things up and this was IMPOSSIBLE to write in the meantime ive written a soulmate au and four chapters of a fake dating au so like ,, go check those out

Stood in front of Pulitzer, Davey was surprised to find himself steady and calm; none of his usual nerves plagued him. With Spot and Jack either side of him, he felt stronger than he ever had before. 

Pulitzer’s office was frozen in a state of absolute panic, the only sound the incessant ringing of half a dozen telephones, and all eyes fixed on the three of them. 

Davey watched with growing pride as Jack sauntered forwards, a copy of the paper - _their_ paper - in his hands. He spread it neatly down on Pulitzer’s desk, and patted it. 

‘How we doin’ this morning, gents?’ Jack said. Davey heard Spot snort with suppressed laughter beside him. 

‘You’re behind this?’ Pulitzer bristled with anger. Davey thought a vein might burst in his forehead. ‘We had a deal.’

Despite Jack’s promises to him the night before, Davey felt his chest tighten at the mention of Jack’s bribe money - the money Davey knew he wanted to use to leave. 

‘It came with a money-back guarantee.’ Jack said smugly, tossing down a handful of bills on top of the paper - more money than Davey had ever seen at once in his life. ‘And thanks for your lessons on the power of the press.’

‘Did you read this, boss?’ A man stood behind Pulitzer tapped the paper with a fingertip. ‘These kids put out a pretty good paper. Very convincing.’

‘No doubt written by my daughter.’ Pulitzer sneered. 

Davey watched as Jack took a seat in the chair opposite Pulitzer, reclining with his hands interlaced behind his head. Davey swallowed, and felt his heart quicken. He wanted to pin Jack down and kiss him senseless - an overwhelming feeling now that he was suddenly aware that he could. He filed away the thought for later, to bring up when they had a spare moment on the roof of the lodging house. 

‘I’d sign her before someone else grabs her up.’ Jack said, with a grin. Davey couldn’t help but smile with pride at the thought of Katherine’s words. 

‘I demand to know who defied my ban on printing strike material!’ Pulitzer spluttered, evidently becoming more and more vexed with every passing moment. 

‘We’re your loyal employees.’ Jack said smugly. 

‘We’d never take our business elsewhere.’ Spot added, swaggering forwards to take a seat in the chair next to Jack. 

Davey stepped forwards too, placing a hand on the back of Jack’s chair, mere centimetres from where Jack’s own hands were resting behind his head. He reached out and brushed the very edge of Jack’s hand with a fingertip, a gentle reassurance. 

The man behind Pulitzer picked up the paper, and examined it over the top of a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. ‘The old printing press in the cellar.’ He said, finally, sounding awed. 

‘I made you the offer of a lifetime. Anyone who does not act in his own self-interest is a fool.’ Pulitzer said, standing up with his hands on the desk and leaning over it. 

‘What’s that make you?’ Davey replied, surprised at himself. ‘This all began because you wanted to sell more papers. But now your circulation is down seventy percent. Why didn’t you just come and talk to us?’ 

‘Guys like Joe don’t talk with nothin’s like us.’ Jack says, turned in his chair to face Davey with an oddly reverent look in his eyes. ‘But a very wise reporter once told me a real boss don’t need the answers. Just the smarts to snatch the right one when he hears it.’ 

‘Have a look out there, Mr. Pulitzer. In case you ain’t figured it out, we got you surrounded.’ Spot said, pointing out of the window where, from the square outside, the bubble of chatter was rising steadily louder, and where Davey knew hundreds of kids were waiting in nervous anticipation. 

‘There’s hundreds of kids out there.’ Jack said. ‘New York is closed for business. Paralyzed. You can’t get a paper or a shoe shine. You can’t send a message or ride an elevator or cross the Brooklyn Bridge. You can’t even leave your own building. So, what’s your next move?’ 

The doors to the office slammed open, and a frazzled-looking man rushed back in, a flurry of nerves. 

‘Mr. Pulitzer!’ He said, gasping for breath. ‘The Mayor is here along with your daughter and... oh you’re not going to believe who else!’ 

In walked the mayor, regal in his finery, alongside Katherine, Medda, and Teddy Roosevelt himself. Davey had to admit, he was impressed that they had wrangled that one. 

‘Good morning, Mr. Pulitzer. I think you know the Governor.’ The mayor said, a gleam in his eye. 

Pulitzer gaped like a goldfish. ‘Governor Roosevelt?’

‘Joseph, Joseph, Joseph. What have you done now?’ Roosevelt tutted. Davey noticed the same glint in his eye as was in the mayor’s, and as was mirrored in Medda’s. 

‘I’m sure when you hear my explanation -‘ Pulitzer began, but Roosevelt was uninterested. 

‘Thanks to Miss Medda Larkin bringing your daughter to my office, I already have a thorough grasp of the situation - graphic illustrations included.’ Roosevelt brandished Jack’s drawings of the refuge. Davey saw Jack stiffen, and he reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. Jack relaxed beneath his touch, and Davey saw his eyes flutter closed for a fraction of a second. 

‘’Bully’ is the expression I usually employ to show approval.’ Roosevelt continued. ‘But in your case, I simply mean bully!’ 

Roosevelt gestured to Jack, and turned to Katherine. ‘Is this the boy of whom you spoke?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Katherine said. Davey grinned at her, and she winked. 

‘How are you, son? I’m told we once shared a carriage ride.’ Roosevelt said, extending a hand to Jack. Jack merely gaped. 

Davey nudged him, and he started, taking Roosevelt’s hand and shaking it firmly. 

‘Pleasure’s mine, Mr. Governor.’ He said, turning his head to look incredulously at Davey. 

Davey wasn’t sure he’d ever felt more in love with Jack as he did then, watching him succeed, - and, most of all, watching him still turn to Davey for help, for confirmation, for reassurance, and to share the moment with him, even through the briefest of looks. 

‘Well, Joe, don’t just stand there letting those children shout... endlessly. Give them the good news.’ Roosevelt said, gesturing to the rabble out of the window. 

‘What good news?’ Pulitzer said, evidently frightened. 

‘That you’ve come to your senses and rolled back your prices. Unless, of course, you want to invite a full state senate investigation into your employment practices.’ Roosevelt said, with a quirk of his eyebrow. 

‘You wouldn’t -‘ Pulitzer started, red with anger. 

‘After the pressure you wielded to keep me from office? I’d do it with a smile. Come along, Joseph. There’s only one thing worse than a hard heart, and that’s a soft head.’ Roosevelt tapped his own head, taunting him. 

‘I cannot put the price back where it was.’ Pulitzer said, turning to Jack with a stony expression. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t. There are other considerations -‘

‘I get it.’ Jack said, rolling his eyes. ‘You need to save face front of all these folks. I’m young, I ain’t stupid.’ 

‘Thank you for understanding.’ Pulitzer said primly, eyes flitting to where the others in the room were watching him. 

‘But I got constituents with a legitimate gripe.’ 

‘What if I reduce the raise by half and get the others to do the same? It’s a compromise we can all live with.’

Jack thought for a moment, turning slightly to look at Davey and Spot. They both gave the slightest, most imperceptible nods. ‘But you eat our losses.’ He said, finally. ‘From now on, any papes we can’t sell, you buy back at full price.’

Pulitzer exploded. ‘That’s never been on the table! What’s to stop newsies from taking hundreds of papers they can’t sell? My costs will explode!’ 

‘No newsies is gonna break his back haulin’ around papes he can’t sell.’ Spot said, with a mocking laugh. 

‘But if they can take a few more with no risk, they might sell them and your circulation would begin to grow.’ Davey finished, grinning at Spot. 

‘It’s a compromise we can all live with.’ Spot said, in a remarkably accurate mockery of Pulitzer. 

‘Perhaps you’re smarter than I thought.’ Pulitzer said, still with a sneer, but defeat evident in his face. 

‘Deal?’ Jack said, spitting in his hand and holding it out for Pulitzer to shake. 

‘That’s disgusting.’ Pulitzer said, looking down his nose at Jack’s extended hand. 

‘Just the price of doing business.’ Jack proffered his hand again. 

Resignedly, Pulitzer spat in his own hand with a grimace, and shook Jack’s. 

‘Mr. Pulitzer - if we may?’ Roosevelt said, gesturing to the balcony, looking out over the crowd below. 

Pulitzer’s nostrils flared, but he stepped aside, allowing Jack to lead the way out onto the balcony, Davey close behind. 

Jack leant against the edge, simply staring out for a moment. He turned, to find Davey closer than he expected. His chest ached with longing to touch him, to kiss him, even simply to press their foreheads together. 

Davey seemed to understand him - Jack didn’t think he would ever tire of the way he could do that - and he smiled, the same smile that Jack had fallen head over heels for all those days ago. He remembered the first sight of that smile - the first real sight, the first time Davey had smiled at him without restraint and without nerves, the first evening of the strike, out on the fire escape. Then, it had felt like a punch in the gut to feel its full force directed at him. 

Now, it was still a painful reminder of what he couldn’t have, what he would be leaving behind him. At the same time, it filled him with hope - although a hope for what, exactly, he wasn’t sure. 

Davey leant towards him, a fractional movement, meaningless to an unknowing onlooker. But Jack, surprising even himself, understood. He understood that, in such a tiny movement, Davey was all at once reassuring him, encouraging him, and telling him just how much he wanted to be close to him. He swallowed down the discomfort in his chest, and turned to face the crowd, to revel, even if just for a moment, in their glory. 

‘Newsies of New York City...’ He said, his voice echoing around the square. ‘We won!’ 

The riotous cheers that ensued were deafening, overwhelmingly loud and so full of hope. 

‘And now I’d like to introduce my own personal pal, Governor Theodore Roosevelt himself!’ He ushered Roosevelt into place to address the newsies, which he did with grace. 

‘Each generation must, at the height of its power, step aside and invite the young to share the day. You have laid claim to our world and I believe the future, in your hands, will be bright and prosperous. And your drawings, son, have brought another matter to bear.’ He turned around, to where an officer was entering through the office, Crutchie following behind. 

Jack rushed to greet him, throwing his arms around Crutchie and almost knocking him to the ground. 

‘Hey, careful!’ Crutchie said with a laugh. ‘Anyone would think you missed me.’ 

‘I’m so sorry, Crutchie.’ Jack said, choking down a sob. 

‘It’s okay, Jack.’ Crutchie said, laughing a little, though Jack could hear him fighting back his own tears. ‘You did it. We did it!’ 

Davey in turn hugged him even tighter, laughing in his surprised happiness. Crutchie feigned his being annoyed, but hugged Davey with everything in him. 

‘Look at what I got you.’ Crutchie said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. Being frog-marched between two policemen was Snyder, bright red with anger. 

‘Hey, officers!’ Crutchie continued, with a smirk. ‘Would you take him out there?’ He gestured to the balcony, and the officers obliged. At the sight of Snyder in cuffs and Crutchie free, the crowd screamed and yelled. 

Jack could see his newsies, evidently having muscled their way to the front - Race, and Albert, Specs, Mush, Romeo, Blink, Smalls - all pointing and waving and shouting and hugging each other over and over. 

Jack felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Roosevelt, eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile. 

‘Jack, with these drawings you made an eloquent argument for shutting down the Refuge.’ He said. ‘Be assured that Mr. Snyder’s abuses will be fully investigated.

With that, the officers pulled Snyder away, accompanied by an enthusiastic ‘so long, sucker!’ from Crutchie. 

‘I can’t help thinking... if one of your drawings convinced the governor to close t Refuge, what might a daily political cartoon do the expose the dealings in our own government back rooms?’ 

Jack turned at the sound of Pulitzer’s voice, but was startled to hear little of his usual venom. 

‘What do you say, Teddy? Care to have this young man’s artistry shine a lantern behind your closed doors?’ Pulitzer said, raising his eyebrows at Jack. 

‘I, uh -‘ Jack swallowed, uncertain. ‘Thanks for the offer, but with the strike settled, I should probably be hittin’ the road.’ 

‘Ah, well. My offer stands, Mr. Kelly.’ Pulitzer said, and, with that, he was gone. 

‘We should go and see the others.’ Davey said, the bitterness in his voice almost unbearable to Jack. 

‘Davey, can we -‘ Jack started. 

‘C’mon, Crutchie.’ Davey slung an arm around Crutchie’s shoulders, and led the way out of Pulitzer’s office, leaving Jack gaping helplessly at his rapidly retreating back. 

‘You should think about it, Jack.’ Katherine said. Jack turned to her, surprised. She had an odd expression on her face, a mixture of sadness and confusion, and what he thought was pity. 

‘What, the job?’ He scoffed. ‘I can’t even read more’n a line or two of the news, let alone draw cartoons about it.’ 

‘I mean about staying with - with everyone.’ She said, though the way she looked at him made him think she was referring to someone in particular. ‘There’s people that need you Jack. More than that, there’s people you need.’ 

She squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, and, with that, followed Jack and Crutchie out of the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sending u all lots of love! thank u sm to people who’ve stuck with this fic and who come back time and time again. nearly at the end now!


	17. my love will burn within me,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘What’s going on, Jack, is that I’m trying to fall out of love with you within the next thirty minutes so that my heart doesn’t break when you leave for Santa Fe.’ Davey said, matter-of-fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s 12:30am im exhausted but i had a writing frenzy and wrote this all in one go no proof reads nothing here u go!

The lodging house had never seen anything like it. Jack hadn’t even known that this many people could fit in here, or that they could make this kind of noise without the entire building collapsing. All around him, newsies were laughing, hugging each other, goofing around like they had before the strike - only now, they seemed freer. 

At their centre stood Davey, his head tilted back in laughter at something Finch had just said. He had an arm around Crutchie’s shoulders, holding on to him tightly, as though afraid he might lose him again if he let go. Crutchie, who came up only to Davey’s shoulder, was gazing up at him as he laughed too. It pained Jack to know that he had missed out on this - that he hadn’t even noticed Davey and Crutchie becoming friends, becoming brothers. It pained him to be leaving this behind. 

Davey glanced around the room as he laughed, drinking in the sight of the newsies in all their joy. His gaze rested for a moment on Jack, turning stony for a fraction of a second, and then passing by, as though he had deemed Jack insignificant. Jack blinked, taken aback. 

‘Hey, Jack!’ Finch called him, beckoning him over to where he stood with Davey, Crutchie, Specs, and Elmer. 

Jack hesitated for a moment, but joined them, leaning into Finch’s half embrace as he babbled something about a joke Elmer had just told. Davey didn’t look at him. He said something unintelligible to Crutchie, and then slipped away to speak to Katherine, who was leant against a bunk bed, taking in the scene. 

‘Don’t you think so, Jack?’ Finch said, snapping Jack back to reality. 

‘What?’ He said. He was met with rolling eyes from the group. ‘I - sorry, guys, I gotta go.’ He ducked away, hardly even noticing the confusion of the group at his leaving. He headed straight for Davey, who exhaled deeply, said something quietly to Katherine, and then walked away as quickly as possible. 

Jack caught up to him, and grabbed his arm - not strong enough to keep him from leaving, should he want to, but enough to convey his panic. 

‘Davey, what’s going on?’ He said. 

Davey sighed, tiredly. 

‘You really gotta ask?’ 

‘Yeah, Dave, I do.’

‘What’s going on, Jack, is that I’m trying to fall out of love with you within the next thirty minutes so that my heart doesn’t break when you leave for Santa Fe.’ Davey said, matter-of-fact. 

He didn’t sound angry, just exhausted, as though he could hardly bring himself to care at all. He ripped his arm out of Jack’s grip, and walked over to join Albert in throwing sweets into Racetrack’s mouth. 

‘Why the hell are you doing this, Jack?’ 

Jack wheeled around to see Katherine behind him, arms folded, eyes narrowed. 

‘I don’t need you to lecture me -‘

‘Well, obviously, you do.’ She said, rolling her eyes. ‘Since you can’t figure it out yourself. What does Santa Fe have that New York doesn’t?’ 

‘I - I don’t -‘ Jack spluttered. 

‘Exactly.’ Katherine looked smug. ‘Even better, what’s New York got that Santa Fe doesn’t? New York’s got your friends. Your family. Me. A job.’ 

‘Like I told you, I can’t even read, Katherine. I can’t take that job.’ 

‘So learn.’ She sounded really annoyed, now, her voice stern and chastising. ‘Or find someone to read to you.’ She three her hands up in the air in exasperation. ‘You know you belong here!’ 

‘I need a fresh start, Kath.’ He protested. ‘New York’s got stuff, sure, but nothing I can’t find again out there.’ 

‘New York’s got him.’ She said, quietly. 

‘That ain’t -‘

‘What, Jack? Not fair? Not true? Sure, throw away your family, a chance at a job. But you’re gonna throw away that?’ 

‘Davey’s not -‘ Jack glanced around them, and lowered his voice. ‘Soon, Davey’s gonna go back to school. He’s gonna stop sellin’ papes, and he’s gonna get fancy new friends, and meet someone much better than me, and it’s not even gonna matter anyway if I’m out in Santa Fe.’ 

Katherine stayed silent for a moment, staring at him as if searching for something. 

‘And have you told Davey all of this?’

‘What? No, of course I ain’t told him.’ 

She took his face in her hands, smiling at him pityingly. 

‘You are so fucking stupid, Jack Kelly.’ 

With that, she walked away. He was left gaping at her, furious - and yet, he couldn’t find it within him to stay angry. 

Automatically, his gaze sought out Davey, still laughing and joking around with Race and Albert. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, steadying himself and swallowing down the wave of nausea threatening to crash over him. 

Jack made a beeline for Davey, coming up behind him so as not to make him run again. He placed a hand on his shoulder, making Davey start, and turn to him, already prepared to fight. 

‘Come to the roof?’ He asked, quietly. Without waiting for an answer, he headed for the ladder that led to the trapdoor. It took all of his willpower not to look over his shoulder, to check whether Davey was following. 

Thankfully, he spent only a few minutes alone on the rooftop before the trapdoor creaked open, and Davey clambered out. 

‘If this is some kind of weepy goodbye, I’d really rather we didn’t.’ Davey said, his tone clipped and icy. 

Jack didn’t respond. 

Davey took a step towards him, standing opposite, a fair distance away from him. 

‘I mean it, Jack.’ He said, a little softer. ‘You’re leaving soon, and I -‘ 

‘I don’t want to go.’ Jack blurted out, voice breaking as he spoke. Davey’s breath caught in his throat on an inhale, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing. 

‘Then don’t go.’ Davey said, laughing a little. 

‘I have to, Davey, you don’t understand. It’s all I’ve had to look forward to, it’s all I’ve been workin’ for.’ 

‘It doesn’t have to be.’ Davey reached out, and took Jack’s hand in both of his, running his fingers over Jack’s knuckles. 

‘It does. Can’t you see? I got nothin’ without Santa Fe.’ 

‘That’s not true, and you know it.’ Davey said, trying hard not to sound as annoyed as he felt. As frustrated as he was with Jack, he understood his wanting to get away, his desperation to escape to Santa Fe. 

‘I can’t stay here. The kids ain’t gonna need me much longer, the job wouldn’t work out, and you -‘

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Davey protested. ‘I’m here, Jack, I’m always here.’ 

‘Oh, come off it, Dave. You ain’t gonna -‘ Jack broke off, shaking his head. 

‘Jack, what is it?’ Davey said, pressing for him to continue. 

‘Your pa’s gonna get better, and you’re gonna go back to school, and find new friends, and a girl to settle down with. You ain’t gonna have time for me. You shouldn’t have to make time for me.’ Jack said, all in a rush. Saying it so plainly felt stupid, as though he was just a little kid again, explaining why something was unfair. 

Davey stared at him for a moment, and then pulled him into a hug, one hand on the back of his neck, holding him close. He felt Jack shake with choked-back sobs, and held him even tighter. 

‘I mean it when I say I love you, Jack.’ Davey whispered to him. ‘I’m here for good, if you’ll have me.’ 

Jack didn’t respond to that, but pulled back from Davey’s embrace. He wiped his eyes hastily with the back of his hand, his other still clasped tight in Davey’s. 

‘Jackie, someday I am gonna go back to school. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna forget you. I’ll be here with you every spare minute I get, because I want to be. Because I love you.’ 

‘I love you too, Davey.’ Jack said, with a weak smile. He leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to Davey’s mouth, soft and sweet. ‘I’m sorry I’m such a -‘

‘Don’t apologise.’ Davey said, with another quick kiss. ‘I want to be with you, Jack. Not with the kids from my school, and definitely not settled down with some girl.’ 

‘You’re gonna have to, some day.’

‘We’ll deal with that when we get to it.’ Davey said. Jack smiled at that, and pulled Davey close, leaning his head on his shoulder and threading his arms around his waist, as if they were slow-dancing. 

‘I ain’t gonna go.’ Jack said, finally, his voice barely a whisper.

‘Really?’ 

‘Yeah, really.’ 

‘I mean it when I say I’m gonna be here. All the damn time. You think it’s bad now? You’ll never get rid of me, Jackie.’

‘I don’t think I’ll ever want to.’ 

‘‘You should tell the others.’ Davey said, smiling a half-smile.

‘I‘ll tell ‘em later.’ Jack mumbled, reaching up to press a kiss to Davey’s neck. ‘Just stay here with me? For a while?’ 

‘As long as you want, Jackie. We got all the time in the world.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter guys can u beliEVE!!! it’ll be more of an epilogue-type thing so have that to look forward to xo


	18. and we will live eternally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can’t BELIEVE im posting this. the freaking last chapter! how have i managed this!!!

_three months later_

The moment the school bell rang, Davey scrambled to collect his books, throwing them haphazardly into his bag. He broke into a run the moment he passed the school gates, taking back alleys and shortcuts that were almost second nature to him by now. 

He considered, for a brief moment, going back home to change out of his uniform. He knew he’d get flack from the newsies for wearing it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

By the time he reached the lodging house, he was gasping for breath, lungs burning from running for so long. He skidded to a halt right outside, almost crashing into Race on his way out. 

‘Whoa, Dave!’ Race laughed. ‘You’s in even more of a hurry ‘n usual.’ 

‘It’s Friday, Race!’ Davey said, with a grin. 

‘Already?’ Race frowned, counting the days on his fingers. 

‘I’ll see you tomorrow for the evening edition?’ Davey asked, hopefully. 

‘You know it.’ Race replied, and, slapping him on the shoulder, jogged away into the dusky light. Davey could see Albert waiting for him, leant against a lamppost, and he waved. Albert gave him a little mock-salute by way of a greeting. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw him take Race’s hand as they walked off together in search of the evening’s headline. 

He smiled to himself at that, and, although he’d hardly known them four months, it made him feel old to see them together. They seemed like they were years older than they had been at the start of the summer - all of them did, but he could see it most with Racetrack and Albert. He worried about them, sometimes, so young and careless. Far more careless than he and Jack had ever been. He wondered if he and Jack had anything to do with it; if they are a model for the younger kids, some kind of proof that there is a possibility. That was a terrifying thought. 

‘Evening, Mr. Kloppman.’ He greeted the old man as he entered, and he glowered back in greeting, though Davey knew it was all for show. 

‘Happy Friday, Jacobs.’ Kloppman said, still not cracking a smile, but with a definite gleam in his eye. ‘Let’s see some coin.’ 

Davey fished in his pocket, and flipped down a coin on the desk. He wrote his name neatly in the guest book, beneath the scrawls and scribbles and symbols that the other kids had used to sign themselves in. 

‘Have a good night, sir!’ He said, doffing his cap, already halfway up the stairs. Kloppman batted a hand towards him, with an unintelligible grunt, which Davey translated to mean that he had also been wished a good night. 

He raced up the stairs two at a time, and was greeted with cheerful shouts from the few newsies that hadn’t yet left for the evening edition. Les, to his mild dismay, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing cards with Crutchie and Finch. 

‘I tried to stop ‘em, I really did.’ Specs said to him, by way of a greeting. 

‘I’ve stopped even trying.’ Davey sighed. 

‘Your brother’s robbin’ me blind!’ Finch cried, slamming his cards down on the floor as Les cackled with glee. Finch reluctantly handed over a small paper bag of sweets, of which Les immediately popped two into his mouth. He smiled up at Davey innocently, his mouth full. Davey just rolled his eyes and ruffled his hair. 

‘Be home for six o’clock, Les.’ Davey told him. 

‘Can’t I stay here?’ Les whined. 

‘Absolutely not.’ Davey said, already halfway up the ladder. ‘Next week, I promise.’ Les stuck his tongue out at him, stained blue from the artificial colour of the sweets. 

Davey opened the trapdoor to the rooftop, and immediately he felt all the tension release from his shoulders. He paused for a moment, drinking in the sight of Jack, engrossed in a drawing, oblivious to his presence. 

He remembered a time when he would only ever look at Jack like this secretively, furtive little glances stolen here and there, scraps of half-memories that would someday amount to an entire picture. Now, though, he could stare and stare with nothing to stop him, with no fear clawing at his chest, no guilt pooling in his stomach. 

It was already beginning to get dark, the autumn air quickly cooling, the sun setting over the skyline. Jack’s tongue was poking out, just a little bit, clamped between his teeth in concentration. He was too far away for him to see, but Davey knew that the dimples in his cheeks were visible. He made a mental note to kiss them in a moment, when he had stopped staring. His hands were moving quickly, sketching something with charcoal - Davey could tell because there was a smudge of it on his nose, and the side of his hand was covered in grey marks. His head was tilted right to the side, mirroring the tilt of the paper on his lap. 

There was a familiar swooping sensation in Davey’s stomach, an incredulous kind of joy, like he still, after all these months, couldn’t quite believe that his luck had turned out the way it had. 

‘You just gonna stand there and stare all night?’ Jack said, not looking up from his drawing. 

‘Maybe.’ Davey said. ‘The view’s pretty good from here.’ 

That made Jack look up, frowning, but with a smile playing on his mouth. 

‘Well, it’s your choice.’ He shrugged, and went back to his drawing. Davey laughed, and finally clambered all the way up through the trapdoor, tossing his school bag aside and leaning down to capture Jack’s mouth in a kiss. 

Jack made a small noise of surprise, and quickly knocked aside his drawing, giving Davey the space to settle down in between his legs and kiss him properly. Jack’s hands lifted to Davey’s face, but he grabbed his wrist and pulled away, leaving Jack breathless. 

‘Do _not_ get charcoal on me.’ Davey said. 

‘Really? You’re gonna stop kissin’ me ‘cause I have charcoal on my hands?’ 

Davey raised his eyebrows. 

‘Fine! Fine, I’ll go.’ Jack stood up slowly, trying to steal a quick kiss as he did, but easily thwarted by Davey turning his head away. Jack groaned in frustration, and made a show of washing his hands with the rusty tap on the side of the wall. ‘Happy?’ He said, lifting his hands up to show Davey. 

‘Very.’ Davey said, leaning back against the wall. 

Jack walked back over to him, shaking his head in disbelief, but unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. He stopped just short of Davey, standing over him. 

‘You’re a damn tease, Davey Jacobs.’ 

‘Oh, yeah?’ Davey said, softly, looking up at him with a gleam in his eye. Jack’s plan had been to tease him straight back, but god, when Davey looked up at him like that, with such affection in his eyes, biting his lip just because he _knew_ it would drive Jack crazy, all of his plans went out the window. He sat in front of Davey, half on his lap, and kissed him, hard. He felt Davey laugh against his mouth, breathless and giddy. Davey brought his hands up to tangle in his hair, and Jack wrapped his around Davey’s waist, pulling him closer and closer, until he thought he might meld into him. 

He wasn’t sure he would ever tire of this. With every girl he’d kissed before, he’d bored of it quickly, of the half-hearted kisses and unenthusiastic embraces. They had never been bad kisses - quite the opposite. There had often been girls that he would go back to, time and time again, girls he enjoyed spending time with, girls that made his heart beat a little quicker. But none of them had come close to the fire that was Davey. None of their kisses had sparked the same heat within him, none of them had left him hungry and desperate for more, no matter how much he consumed. 

He often wondered what it was that made it different. It wasn’t the fact that Davey was a boy - Jack was just as certain that no other boy could make him feel like Davey as he was that no girl could. Perhaps it was the way that Davey kissed like he spoke, sometimes gentle and understanding, sometimes methodical and searching, sometimes teasing and playful. 

Above all, Davey kissed him like he loved him. He kissed like every kiss was at the same time their first and their last. Every peck, every long, drawn out embrace, had in it the same overflowing emotion that their first confession of a kiss had contained, and simultaneously the same yearning, the same promise, the same adoration as a lover’s parting kiss might have.

When Davey pulled back, it was followed by a showering of tiny little kisses, to Jack’s mouth, to his nose, to the spots that he knew his dimples were when he smiled. 

‘You want to get reading?’ Davey asked, his mouth still hovering over the sweet spot on Jack’s jaw. He almost said no, almost confessed to Davey the way that he felt dizzy with his kisses, and that he wanted to spend every second they had together with his mouth, his hands on Davey, moulding himself to his form. 

But he didn’t, he couldn’t, so he sighed, and said, ‘We should.’ Davey stood up, and Jack ran a hand over his calf, trailing his fingers over the material. Davey reached down and touched their fingers together, then retrieved his bag from where he had discarded it earlier. From the bag he produced a pile of papers - the World, the Herald, the Sun. 

He started with the World, opening it out as Jack opened his sketchbook and picked out a pencil. 

‘Headline was no good today.’ He noted, pointing at the block letters at the top of the page. 

‘Start on page two?’ Davey asked, flipping over the page. 

‘Yeah.’ Jack said. He settled down so that Davey’s head could rest on his shoulder. He turned and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. ‘Love you, Davey.’

‘I love you too.’ Davey said. Jack suppressed a smile at the blush that still flushed Davey’s cheeks when he told him that. Davey cleared his throat and began to read.

‘French Senatorial Election.’ He read. ‘Bitter contest over the candidacy of General Mercier.’ 

‘Really, Dave?’ Jack said. ‘How the hell am I s’posed to draw a cartoon about French politics?’ 

‘Fine, be like that.’ Davey said, with a laugh. ‘How about this one: Rain Spoils the Ice Crop. Not a pound gathered this far in -‘

‘Are you purposely choosing the boring ones?’ Jack said. 

‘No!’ Davey replied. Jack just laughed. 

‘Never mind. I like hearin’ you read, you know that. You’re losin’ your street accent though, y’know.’ 

‘Am I?’ Davey said, puzzled. ‘I hadn’t even noticed.’ 

‘I like it!’ Jack said, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek. ‘I like that you’re back at school. Plus, you look cute in a tie.’ Jack tugged gently on Davey’s tie, teasing. Davey swatted his hands away with a laugh. 

‘Get back to drawing!’ 

‘Get back to readin’!’

‘Fine.’ Davey leafed through the paper, finally stopping about halfway through. ‘Oh, this one’s good. Divorced Couple Make Up. Suit dropped after ten years - ten damn years, Jack! - and pair reunite.’ 

‘I can work with that.’ Jack mused, rubbing his chin and smearing charcoal on his face as he did. ‘Some kind of joke about what he did to win her back. I dunno.’ 

‘Sounds good to me, Jackie.’ 

Davey looked up at him, at the black smudges on his chin and his cheek, at the sharp angles of his face in the low dusky light. 

Jack looked back at him, a half-smile on his lips. 

‘We’re gonna be okay, you and me.’ Davey said, very quietly. Jack breaks into a full smile at that, and leans down to press a kiss to his mouth. 

Davey isn’t sure what it means - an affirmation, a promise? 

Right at that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. There would be a time for such worries, perhaps, but on the rooftop with Jack, there was nothing but them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there u have it folks! i just finished a fic for the first time ever and i couldn’t be prouder of it. everyone who has commented and left kudos or even just read this fic, thank u thank u thank u for being here! and to the people who are always commenting, who have notifs on for this fic (u know who u are and i love u!) thank u so much. ur comments mean the world to me and i will never be able to thank u enough. stay tuned for more and follow me on tumblr @weisenbachfelded!!!


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